My 17th Year of Torture, Drama, and Misery
by highflyer101
Summary: Is it super fun to be the daughter of a gazillionaire scientist in a gazillionaire town? Um, no. At least, Max doesn't think so. And shockingly, she finds someone who agrees. Someone named Fang. All human! Max's POV. It's better than it sounds, I promise.
1. And So It Begins

**A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome to my first MR fanfic! Some things to remember while you parooze this excellent story:**

**- All human and IGGY CAN SEE! (He was blind because of experiments, so if the School didn't exist, he would be able to see.)**

**- Fang, Max, and Iggy are 17 year olds in their junior year of high school; Gazzy and Nudge are 15 in their sophomore year; and Angel is 14 in her freshman year. Fang is older than Max! **

**Review please! I'm not smart enough to own something like Maximum Ride. **

Life has a real way of sucking sometimes. Like the morning of my seventeenth birthday, for instance. Why? Because I was sitting at the kitchen table, alone. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the kind of girl who needs ten million people giggling about how cool it is that I'm seventeen. I'd never even liked my birthday that much. But it would be nice to have someone acknowledge it, you know? And my dad, my own _father, _didn't even remember. He was just motoring around the room, flapping his gums about some new science experiment he was doing that would make us a million _more _dollars. Why it would make that much of a difference, I really don't know. If it was me, once I got to a million, I would pretty much be set for the rest of my life. But not my dad, no way. He just had to be a gazillion-aire and solve global warming and all that jazz.

"Max, have you even been listening to me?"

"To tell you the truth, not really, no," I said bluntly. Jeb glared at me, his mouth contorting into a spiral. (Yeah, I call my father by his first name. That's what happens when you see him like, once a week. It's not that big of a deal. Get over it.)

"Don't take that tone with me."

"Don't talk to me about things I don't want to hear, then!" We engaged in an intense staring match. My eyes traced the vein pulsing in his forehead, and I smirked. You know that feeling when someone's just pissing you off really badly and you'll do anything you can to piss them off right back? Then you know my relationship with Jeb. My little 'attitude problem' as a principle had once called it, was not due solely to the fact that my birthday was going ignored. That was just a teensy part of it. Nope, seventeen years of neglect and bitterness were channelled right towards my father every morning.

"You'll be late for school, Maximum."

"Oh no, you used my full name! Isn't this the part where I get really scared and burst into tears?" Jeb's eye twitched.

"I'm serious, Max, get to school! I'm not taking any of your crap right now! This is a big moment for me and I _will not hesitate _to punish you as harshly as need be if you ruin it." "What, you gonna lock me in my room all week? This is enough of a prison Jeb, don't even bother."

I didn't have time to block his fist.

As much as I hate him, Jeb had some pretty good aim. His hand connected immediately with my left eye, and my face burned with a strange embarrassment, just as it did every time he hit me. Maybe it was because somehow, I knew that I pushed him to it. I basically _asked _him to make me his punching bag every second we were together. Maybe, deep down inside of me, I knew it was my fault. All of it. The punching. The lack of a mother. Everything.

"Um. Iggy, Gazzy and Angel are giving me a ride today." Jeb's huge exhale of breath resonated through the room. "I'll just, uh, wait outside for them," I managed. My feet faltered over the hardwood floor, twisting in impossible directions. I grabbed a black vest from a hook on the wall, stuffing my arms into it as I ran outside. My school tie hung loosely around my neck, and I reached up to unbutton the first button on my suffocating shirt. I yanked it out of the waist of my neat, navy-and-green plaid skirt. Instead of my usual converse, I jammed my feet into the first pair of shoes I could find: a ginormous set of dark gray, suede boots that slouched down when I put them on. They had been a gift from some partner of Jeb's, so they reached up to the fashion-accepted height of just over my kneecaps.

I could still hear Jeb's careful, calming breathing from outside, so I forced myself to focus on the cars streaming by. My eye pulsed, and I ran my fingertips over the tender skin. What would I say happened this time? Not that anyone would notice. Would they? Iggy was sure to. He was my pyromaniac of a best friend who seemed to have a natural affinity for healing and wounds. Seriously. The boy could be a witch doctor. (Wizard doctor? Warlock doctor?) Maybe he would remember it was my birthday. I didn't need him to, though. Jeb was more the issue. But he hit me. A lot. So should he really matter? Like, other than in a self-defense kind of way?

"Birthday girl! Maaaaaax! Maximum? Max!" Gazzy's head hung out of the window of Iggy's beat-up Jeep. His angelic blue eyes twinkled with mischief, as they always did, as he surveyed my admittedly large house. Well, Jeb had forced me to live in Greenwich, CT. **(I write about what I know… And I have a great wealth of jokes at my hometown's expense, I promise you.) **What else would I expect?

"Shut your trap before you catch flies, Gaz. You've seen Max's house before," Iggy's voice rang from the driver's seat. I laughed.

"May I pleeeeeaseeee have shotgun, Gaz? For my birthday?" I pleaded. Gazzy smirked.

"I don't know, Max, I'm feeling kind of gassy. The front seat tends to make me feel better." I rolled my eyes.

"Never mind," I muttered. When Gazzy, er, let one rip, it was literally deadly. Like, you could not breathe. There's a reason we called him Gazzy. "Immature pig."

Angel, in all her innocence, sat perched in the back, smiling. "Happy birthday, Max," she grinned, holding out an envelope. I blushed uncharacteristically and fumbled with the seal. I didn't need _this_ much attention on my birthday. That girl was just too sweet. Inside was a long, thoughtful letter that you would expect to be written after years of not seeing each other, rather than like, a day. I was at Iggy's house all the time, so his siblings had become mine. I patted her arm graciously, never one for much physical contact. She clapped lightly to herself and turned to the window, lost in her own world.

"So my sister revealed her lez-crush on you?" Iggy inquired sarcastically.

"I _can _still hear you, you know!" Angel insisted. "You're not a very good big brother, James." Iggy's face blanched. If you ever met Angel, then you knew that the effect she had over people was unearthly. It was like some outside force was begging you to please her. In a way, her name was the epitome of irony: a devilish angel. Still, you couldn't help but love her.

"You know I didn't mean it, Ange." Iggy laughed nervously.

"Mm-hmm." That was it. She just sounded so.., _entitled, _so bratty that the car was silent for a few seconds. It wasn't the first time it happened, either. Since she started high school, everything had had something in it for her. She knew how to work people to her advantage, that was for sure. And she'd been taken in immediately by all the mini-Lindsay Lohan's at our school. Was I bitter? Of course not. I just missed the girl that got Iggy and I to play Candyland with her for three hours straight.

In the distance, Ingenium Academy for Gifted Students hovered on the horizon. I groaned inwardly at the sight of the gorgeous stone mansion rising in front of me. The picturesque setting was ruined by the slutty girls lounging around in way-too-short skirts, flirting with stoner jocks who had forgotten to tie their ties the correct way and had either cocaine or powdered donut powder all over their neat blazers. It was absolutely horrific. How had the world become so… this? I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

And so began my seventeenth year of absolute torture, drama, and misery.

**A/N: R & R please! Btw, I made up Ingenium Academy. If anyone takes Latin, you know what it means. Thanks for reading guys! The next chapter will be up soon, and Fang and Nudge will be introduced then!**


	2. My Little Sister's Big Brother

You know something ironic? Only the stupidest people actually go to school. I mean, Mark Zuckerberg dropped out of Harvard! Where is he now? Sitting on his gigantic pile of cash and working on the new updates for Facebook. And I know teachers are always like, "Well, that's an extremely unique situation," but would it really be so bad if I just decided that my school career was over? I could learn to count cards. I could go to Vegas. These are the kinds of experience that make or break a lifetime, people!

Of course I did absolutely none of that. I just forced myself out of Iggy's car and imagined all the fantastic bridges I could jump off of in order to kill myself. Until someone almost did the job for me. Yup, I was just in the student parking lot, minding my own business, when a huge SUV came barreling towards me. Had God forgotten my birthday too? And, by the way, this isn't Twilight. I wasn't rescued by some magical vampire who looked like he was constipated all the goddamn time. So, naturally, I had a very civilized conversation with the driver of this vehicle.

"Watch it! Are you trying to kill me here?" I banged my fist on the hood of the car, barely leaving a fingerprint, but the driver's face ignited all the same. He stomped out of the car, the door making a terrifying slam, and I turned to face him with all the fury of hell on my side. So I'm a little temperamental. But it's kind of a big deal when someone nearly kills you on your birthday. Especially on your sucky, bad, awful birthday.

And then I got to see this mysterious assassin. To be blunt, he was hot. Yup, I have hormones. I find people attractive. And he was like, the poster boy for attractive. His obsidian eyes sucked you in, or would if you could see them through the fringe of pitch black hair. Which, yes, increased his hotness ten-fold. Not that that was going to affect my rage.

"Dinosaurs were supposed to be extinct, not lurking in parking lots to kill innocent teenagers," I said sharply, putting on my poker face. Apparently, Mr. Hot Chauffeur was a seasoned gambler because there was not trace of emotion on that pretty face.

"Well, harpies weren't supposed to exist, and yet here you are." Woah. Douche bag much? My blood was literally burning. If I were food, I would be a red hot, hot, hot chili pepper. It was like we were jungle animals. And I was about to pounce.

"Ouch. Save the sharp things for cutting yourself, emo-boy."

"So you turn up your nose for more than snorting coke? I have to say, I'm impressed," he shot back. I faltered.

"Original. You got a name I should tell my lawyer? Near death experiences often result in traumatic stress, you know, and if being hit by a car was enough, your face certainly did the trick." Could that be further from the truth? I didn't think so. Unless traumatic stress

"Fang," he replied. I smirked.

"Ah, so that's why you bite," I mused. "As much as I'd like to continue this little chat of ours, I've got a class to go to, one that you would most likely fail." Fang smirked and my heart did a tap dance. He was truly insufferable.

"Try me. I've had the same schedule as you since freshman year." My face turned beet red. Even I would admit that not knowing someone who technically, I'd known for years was bad manners. "That's alright though. I tend to blend in pretty well. So see ya, Maximum."

"Right. Later, Fang," I managed, walking stiffly towards school. I bit my lip to keep from making a snide remark. It would serve him right for using my full name. How much of a tool did you have to be to do that? A big one.

"Oh, and, Max, by the way…" I turned to face Fang when I heard his voice. I worked to keep a death glare on my face. "You have a boy's name," he told me simply. My jaw dropped open. He couldn't be serious. Had we just been transported back to second grade?

"And you have a girl's face," I lied without skipping a beat. A grin evolved on my face as I pivoted back to the school, leaving behind a very shocked, very pissed off hot guy. So maybe I'd ruined my chances of going out with him. But if you knew anything about me, you'd know that I really didn't care.

* * *

><p>Lunchtime brought an unexpected insight into the world of this mysterious Fang. Now that I knew who he was, I was quickly finding that he <em>was <em>in all of my classes. It was like he was some type of clone - a little scary and somewhat confusing. The one thing I knew he wouldn't be in, though, was Big and Little Sisters.

It was a program Ingenium had instated a few years ago; something about creating bonds between the grades. Whatever. All I knew was that I was being basically forced to listen to a full hour of banter from the world's most talkative sophomore: Nudge Warden.

"It was like, insane, because I was like, 'Bitch, puh-lease,' and she was like, 'You're just jealous, bitch,' and I was like, 'You did not just call me bitch,' and she was like, 'Well, you called me bitch first.' Which I guess, like, in theory, is true, but isn't she just such a like, bitch? And if she really did make out with him, well then we are gonna have ourselves a problemo because he is like, my boyfriend. I mean, we're like a week steady! That's my longest relationship yet! I am not about to let some homewrecker bitch go on and ruin it, you know?"

Ah. Isn't she charming?

"Can you please just stop saying 'bitch'?" I requested blatantly. Nudge looked like I'd just asked her to go buy a gun and shoot herself.

"But then how am I gonna tell you what went down between me and Mariana?" I rolled my eyes at her.

"I don't really know, and frankly, I don't care. But it's my birthday, so I'm queen of the world, and so you have _got _to stop saying 'bitch,' got it?" Hey, I'm stressed, okay? Besides, I've heard people say way worse.

"OH GURRRL IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY?," Nudge practically shouted. "Why didn't you say that in the first place? Because I mean, you're seventeen now, right? And that is like, a big accomplishment. Just think of all the people who died before seventeen! Like Lindsay Lohan!"

I quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Lindsay Lohan is still alive."

"I mean socially, _duh. _I just find that so sad. Oh, and when people really die, too. Like, in Africa? Do you see those commercials? Like, damn, someone just give them a Nobel Peace Prize for living through that, and let's call it a day. Seriously, if I were president the world would be such a better place." Another thing about Nudge: kind of obsessed with popularity and herself. She was a sweet girl at heart, though, so I tolerated her. Sometimes.

"Look, Nudge, I'm sorry, but I've just had a really bad day today, and I'd kind of like some quiet. 'Kay? I mean, I almost got mowed down by an absolutely _gorgeous _guy in a huge, gas guzzling SUV named Fang. But lemme tell you, he's not really a people person. In fact, he kind of sucks." Nudge's eyes bulged. For one horrible moment, I thought she had choked on her own spit or gone into cardiac arrest or something. Alas, the silence didn't last for long.

"My brother ran you over this morning? Oh, I'm so sorry!" _Brother? _Um, let's see, how can I put this delicately...

"Nudge, you're black. Fang's not."

"He's adopted. My parents thought they couldn't conceive, so they picked him up. And then, I guess they could conceive because obviously, I'm here! Which I don't need to explain because you hopefully know how that works. You did pass health class in fifth grade, right? Anyway, Fang should not be driving that car. Because it is totally mine. I called it. But I think he kind of resents my whole family because when I was born, he just felt kind of unneeded. Which is so sad, because we totally love him so much. I mean, I'm not supposed to be nice to him. He's my brother! But you talking to him is so cool. Because now we have something we can both talk about when we have big sisters instead of you talking about the pressures of tenth grade." I looked up at Nudge slowly. Her face was completely serious. Shoot me now.

"Yup. That's _just great _Nudge. Great."

**What do you think? Please, please review! **


	3. Mean Girls Has Got Nothing On Me

God hated me. It was official. And I knew that because now _Iggy _was talking about Fang. I was pretty sure there was no way he had always lived here because let's be honest, it couldn't have just been a coincidence that on the day I almost got run over by Fang, Iggy became his best friend and Nudge became his sister. Part of me felt guilty for completely ignoring this guy for years, sure. The other part of me wanted him to go back to being ignored. Because Part I was way too big, and now everyone was talking about him, so I couldn't stop thinking about maybe talking to him, finding out where he's _actually _been all these years, and even apologizing for being a bitch when he should be apologizing to me and the environment for having a car that killed ten plants every mile it drove.

"So you just met this guy?" I asked Iggy innocently, throwing myself on his bed. And, ew, perverts, I was just on his bed as a friend. Iggy and I getting together would be like watching your grandparents have sex. Extremely uncomfortable and something you never would have even considered doing.

Iggy thought for a moment, flicking through a magazine about cars. His nose scrunched up funny, and I had a full view of boogers. He really needed a tissue.

"I guess you could say that," Iggy finally decided. "I mean, I've known _of _him for a while. But I officially met him today, yeah. We were-"

"Put next to each other in science class, yeah I know," I finished for him. This was totally and completely impossible. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I was a generally nice person. I didn't just forget about people's existences. "I still think he's a total fraud. How else could I be so oblivious? I know everyone in our grade. I don't always like them, but I try to be friendly. Right?"

Iggy stared at the ground. I glared at him. Suddenly, I couldn't tell his face apart from the tomato red walls.

"Max-"

"I can't believe this! I am so totally thoughtful! I don't just - Oh God, Ig, I sound like Nudge. This guy is making me sound like Nudge! That is more than enough proof that this whole situation is completely impossible." I nodded firmly, pleased with my reasoning.

"Max, I'm not saying this as a bad thing, but maybe you're not the people person you think you are. Maybe... You just have other things on your mind sometimes." I gaped at him.

"He just has you fooled," I snorted. "The mind believes what it wants to believe!" I tapped on my head helpfully. "You'll see. This kid is not legit."

"I'm sorry, did you just say 'legit'?"

I ignored him. So maybe I hadn't noticed this guy. Fang, was it? That didn't mean anything. He just wasn't noticeable. He was the strong and silent type. Not that I thought of him as one of those characters in sexist chick flicks that ends up rescuing the idiotic girl. I forced my breathing to slow down. It was possible to be nice and not know everyone. Besides, I had my own group of friends. Like, Iggy and... um, Nudge... and... some girl named Jennifer Joy invited me to her birthday party. I know, right? Jennifer Joy. What were her parents thinking? Everyone calls her JJ, though, so it doesn't really matter. Back to the point.

Fang did not matter. He was an egotistic magician that tricked everyone into thinking that he existed for longer than just today.

"I don't know why you're so obsessed with him. Apparently, you were a total bitch when you two met." I shot up.

"First of all, I am not, by any means, obsessed with him. I'm just confused. And secondly, _what _has he been saying about me?" Iggy's bit his lip.

"Uh, you know? When you ran in front of his car and would _not _stop insulting him? It doesn't sound like it was your finest hour, Max."

You know how I've been saying I was furious at Fang all this time? I lied. Before, I was just really mad. _Now, _I was furious. He had no right to go around stretching the truth. I had been _rude. _I hadn't been a _bitch. _Besides, he was rude first. It wasn't fair for him to ruin my reputation like that. But, you know what they say... Kill them with kindness. Fang was about to get a rude awakening and he wasn't going to like it. Plus, he was going to look like a complete and total idiot in front of everyone in the entire school. Don't think I'd spare anyone's feelings when I was getting revenge. This was my kingdom; I would _slaughter _him. And that still doesn't make a bitch because it's his own fault that he's a complete and total idiot. That's final.

"Is that what he thought?" I questioned sweetly. "Iggy, do you have any baked goods in this house?" No, I'm not insane or ADHD. Yes, I was going somewhere with this.

"Uh... What?" he answered, obviously flustered.

"You know I don't like to make anyone feel... unloved, Ig. I'll just have to go and make sure Fang wasn't too hurt by my... out of line actions today."

Iggy looked like he was about to cry. He searched the room frantically, desperate to get out. He knew me well enough to realize that I was planning something, and he might not want to be involved in it. Well, too bad. I don't run a democracy. It was a Maxocracy.

"Max, just as long as you're not going to put, like, poison on them..." I cackled loudly.

"Emo-boy wishes! Nope, I'm just gonna make sure he knows that I'm super kind and lovable... All for me to have to turn him down because his reaction to our initial meeting was so hurtful."

"So... you're seducing him?" I groaned.

"You could say it more nicely. Besides, this will go on for like, a few weeks at best. Come on, Ig, it will be fun... Toying with his emotions... Getting to pretend we have names that start with 'K's and make millions off of our reality shows..." (I know you know who I mean) "Please, please, _please _help me."

He considered this for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"What's in it for me?" he coaxed. I pouted.

"The joy of seeing your best friend's name cleared?"

Naturally, Iggy had a hard time seeing this as a viable reason for involvement in my little plan. If any of you have a friend who will do something for you just to do something for you, I am begging you to marry them. And if they don't want to? Kidnap them. I swear, if I ran everyone else's brains, the world would be such a better place.

Alas, no, and so, Iggy just raised a quizzical eyebrow at me. Well, two actually. Because I'm the only one out of everyone I know who can only raise the one. When I was young, when my father didn't hit me and things like popularity mattered, I found that to be one of the many ways to make people laugh and, eventually, earn their friendship. Snicker all you want, but those are the things elementary school kids care about. The oddities and the freaks are the ones who get the attention. Which is exactly why I feel awful for them when I see them walking into their first day of sixth grade. The very thing that made them popular was becoming the very thing that made them unpopular.

But enough of the depressing stuff.

To make a long story short, I finally convinced Iggy to a) buy some peace offering chocolate chip cookies, which I secretly hoped would be eaten in my presence so that I might be offered one, b) to drive me to Fang's house, and c) laugh about what an idiot he was afterwards.

Call me evil, but I found it amusing to be the main character in a type of Mean Girls plot, seeking my revenge. I wanted to see that I had won this, once and for all, and that I could just go back to being unnoticed, feminist Max instead of bitchy, car-destroying Max. A professional therapist would say that I was channeling my anger at Jeb into the people I associated with as a coping method. I said that I was tough, ambitious, and I knew exactly what I want. If that made me a _bitch_, okay.

(That was a Madonna quote, if you didn't get it. Yeah, that blonde, charitable MILF has a brain.)


	4. In Which I'm Totally, Completely Screwed

**A/N: I just wanted to say thank-you SO SO MUCH for all of the reviews! I'm so glad you guys like my story :) :) :)... Keep 'em coming!**

I hate word vomit. I hate it so, so goddamn much. Because it basically just ruined my perfect plan. I was already in Fang's house, having been let in by Nudge (which lead to partial deafness in one ear), and Fang was feasting upon the perfectly baked, melt-in-your-mouth chocolate chip cookies. If you've ever just watched someone eat your favorite food, you know how badly it sucks. So, of course, I went ahead and said,

"You're seriously not gonna offer me a cookie?" What? It was really rude. This had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I was starving.

Fang raised a doubtful eyebrow at me, licking crumbs off his lips. And not in a sexy, ooh-he's-_licking-_something way, but a piggy, greedy, I-have-cookies-and-you-don't way. It was vomit-inducing.

"What, are you a bitch _and _an Indian giver?"

I hissed in annoyance, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. On instinct, I leaned closer to him, ready to terrify him. His eyes widened, and he backed away from me curiously. I could see confusion flickering in his eyes. Call it a gift, but I can _smell _fear. And I'm telling you, he was scared.

"I. Am not. A bitch," I enunciated, forcing him to look me in the eye. "You're just a bad driver, and also a bad host. You _always _offer to the guest first." I know, you're all in shock that I'm so uptight about manners. I mean, I'm not a caveman! I tend to disregard social taboos, but I am somewhat of a control freak. Just enough that I felt no regret about injuring people who took the reins from me.

Fang muttered something under his breath as I leaned back into my chair, and I arched an eyebrow at him. Was he really going to test me? Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that I wasn't doing an excellent job of proving my point, but I still had a feeling that the rumors about me would slow to a halt. At least, I hoped I would scare him enough to ensure that.

"You sure _act _like a bitch."

You know when you literally could just strangle someone? An incredibly cocky, gossipy, cookie-whore, emo, yet somehow good-looking someone? Was that too specific? Oops. Well, you knew who I was talking about anyways... I hope. Or else you have some serious early onset Alzheimer's going on.

Back to me and Fang. I was steadily realizing that my plan, however brilliant, would be harder to execute than I originally planned. In fact, maybe I should just can it altogether. I distracted myself from this by intensifying my hard glare. Soon, I was sure he would burst into flames. But he just glared right back.

"I should go," I said finally, when my eyes began to hurt from not blinking. "Wouldn't want to waste any more of your precious time." Fang smirked.

"How considerate of you." I pivoted before I reached the door.

"It was considerate of me not to maul your face off. This is saintly of me. Trust me, you don't want to make me mad."

His face remained an emotionless, irritating mask, one of those looks that makes you question everything. I shifted under his gaze, unable to pull myself away. He looked kind of... I don't know, like an abandoned puppy, just sitting at the kitchen counter all alone like that. I remembered what Nudge had said about him not liking her family, and her family not liking him. For a second, my heart melted in sympathy. I knew how it felt to be unloved and ignored. But quickly, I hardened. I had it worse, much worse, than he did. I'd met Nudge's parents-they wouldn't hurt a fly. Not like Jeb hurt me.

"Do you need me to show you the door?"

I rolled my eyes, acting like nothing happened. Secretly, I questioned whether he knew that I basically knew his life story, and whether he wondered if I cared, or if I ever felt lonely. It seemed only fair that he should, seeing as I had wasted an entire minute staring at him pensively. My hands shook in anger as I thrust the front door open, digging for my phone in my pocket. The fresh air for some reason tasted a little minty, like God had just brushed his teeth and breathed across Fang's front lawn. I tromped to the curb, already reaching to open the door of the-

-Non-existent car in front of me. Iggy had ditched me. So much for true friendship. Madder than ever, I punched his number into my phone. The ring buzzed in my ear like a fly, once, twice, and then again. Before voice-mail even had a chance to pick up, I had thrown my phone back in my bag. My heart hammered as I desperately scoured my mind for another choice, but of course, there was none. My house was miles away, most of that being highway, and darkness was already blanketing the earth. I bit my lip, looking halfheartedly at Fang's house. He wasn't even an option. It would be too humiliating, too self-deprecating to ask him for a ride. Knowing him, (or perhaps _not_ knowing him), he'd make me beg before even considering it.

But what else could I do? Jeb would kill me if I slept over to 'bond with Nudge', or even if I missed curfew. And I couldn't call him and ask to be brought home from some random stranger's house in the middle of nowhere. That would be worse. I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the picture-perfect white fence that lined the yard. Carefully, I tip-toed up to the front door. Why, I had no idea. He would know I was there soon enough. My heart nearly exploded as I rapped on the door, and I plastered my best smile to my face. If only I could turn back the clock...

"You're still here?" Fang demanded, still munching on one of my cookies. I smothered a witty remark before it could leave my lips, instead studying my shoes.

"Yes. Um, I... I kinda need a ride?"

**A/N: A bit short, sorry. What do you think? More's coming soon! :)**


	5. We Stop Traffic

**A/N: I'm back! Thanks again for all the reviews... Now I'm gonna try and respond to them all because the button thingy on the email isn't working... you know what I'm talking about, right? The little 'Respond to this review' button? Anyways, I just can't respond, so here's some responses.**

**To Weelich: You're so nice! I'm so glad you like it... Trust me, those insults are the kind of thing that come to you hours after a fight when you'd look really stupid to say them. :/ Oh, and, this chapter is the ride home! Glad you've been looking forward to it :)**

**Heatstroke: Soon enough? Thanks for reading!**

**Live In Today: Yaayyy! I hope you keep on loving it!**

**I'mOutYourWindow: Haha Ikr? Glad you like it :)  
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**Thanks to all of you who story alerted and stuff, too! Keep the reviews coming!**

"So you're so arrogant that you thought you'd be _spending the night _when you came here, and thus didn't need a ride?" Fang raised an eyebrow at me from the driver's seat, making my blood boil.

"I told you. My friend is an asshole and forgot his phone. End of story."

"Why did you even come to my house in the first place? Am I _that _irresistible? Or are you _that _desperate?" he prodded, obviously attempting to ignite my fury.

"Concentrate on the road," I muttered in response, fighting a blush. He cackled loudly, momentarily losing control of the car. I took the opportunity to transform him into my personal punching bag. "Are you seriously blind? What would you have done if there had been a _car coming? _Because personally, I think I look a lot better with a face than without!" I gestured wildly to the traffic around us, stubbing my finger on the windshield in the process.

"Trust me you don't," Fang reassured me.

"What?"

"Look better with your face."

"You...! You're just so... _ugh!"_ I shrieked in annoyance.

"Jesus, relax! We're trying to have a conversation, not create radio frequencies so high that only _dogs _can hear us."

"I bet you've been higher than that," I grumbled. "With all your emo drugs, and all."

"Are you _always _this cheerful and friendly? Because I _think _I might have an idea as to why you have a grand total of... Oops, _no friends."  
><em>I stared straight ahead in shock, concentrating on the quickly approaching sign. 10 Miles To Greenwich! it advertised. Which, with the speed we were going, meant roughly fifteen more minutes with the king of jerks.

"I'm not stooping to your level this time, you know," I informed him haughtily, the words spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Because Nudge told me about your family and how they all _hate _you."

It was harsh, yes. But sometimes you need some tough love to give someone a wake-up call. Not that there was any love between Fang and I. We weren't even approaching friendship. So this opened all insults up, and thus, I was allowed to be a Queen Bitch.

However, Fang didn't seem to agree. The whole car screeched to a halt in the middle of the highway.

"Are you insane?" I demanded, watching the speeding cars careening past us with horror. More than a few angry drivers shouted out all manner of curse words, and I swear I saw some kid calling 911. Probably thought we were drunk, or high, or something.

"Are you trying to make me kill myself?" he shot back. "You have _no _idea what my life is like. None! You just think that because everything is handed to you on a silver platter!" I turned bright red, sinking in my seat.

"Please just drive," I requested softly.

I could see his hands still shaking in anger from across the car. My head was bowed in shame and embarrassment. It was just possible to make out several drivers who were still giving us the finger. Cautiously, I looked at Fang. His entire body was stock still, tensed like he was preparing for a race. The car went forward at an alarming speed, the only clue to his inner turmoil.

"I lied, you know," I said. He remained focused on the road, causing me to sigh. "Nudge said you _think _all of those things. She said you shouldn't. She loves you. You're... You're luckier than you know."

He sent me a sidelong glance, doubtful.

"And you're not?"

"Don't talk about things you don't know," I commanded. "My life's been harder than you think." I neatly dodged my secret, choosing instead to simply hint that I wasn't happy.. Instinctively, my hand curled around my upper arm, protecting a bruise from his prying eyes.

"How so?" he demanded.

"You really think I'm gonna tell you?" I snapped, examining the trees flying past the window. "God. Do you see all those poor, innocent plants this monster truck is murdering?"

"Do you want to walk home?"

I fell silent.

"Really, though. What makes your life so tough and awful? I want to know."

I squirmed under his gaze. It wasn't often that someone scrutinized me like that. It just always seemed like no one really cared.

"I don't know," I managed. "It just is."

"That doesn't count as an answer." I rolled my eyes, searching my brain for an answer he'd believe.

"I guess... My dad just... travels a lot. You know?"

"And your mom?" he prodded.

"I don't know. I mean, I do. She's out in Arizona with her real family. The bitch cheated on my dad, got pregnant, and left to have a _real _family with that guy. Whore."

"Strong language for someone you've never met."

"She deserves it," I confirmed harshly. "I mean, couldn't you say that about your parents? They abandoned you." Fang shrugged nonchalantly.

"Everyone has their own story." I chuckled humorlessly.

"So you assumed that I'm a perfect, stuck-up brat and told everyone I purposely ran in front of your car?" He glared at me.

"You think I'm gonna apologize after all the shit you've pulled today?"

"Language," I winced.

"You just said bitch and whore."

"Because those are the only words to describe my mother. Just cursing... It's bad for the soul." I sensed the slightest glimmer of a smile of his face.

"You're into all of that... Feng shui, voodoo stuff?"

"I believe in karma, if that's what your asking."

"Why?" he snorted. "It's shit that ancient people made up when they fucked up their lives."

_"Language," _we both said at the same time, me serious, him mocking me.

"Sometimes it's better to believe in something completely ridiculous than nothing at all. You know? You need some kind of hope." He considered this.

"I guess so."

Finally, my house rose up in the distance, looming over me. Nervously, I checked the driveway for Jeb's car, flinching when I saw it there. Fang hardly seemed to notice, or just didn't care enough to say anything. Silently, I thrust open my door slamming it shut. Before I could go in, though, he called me back.

"Max?" he yelled. I pivoted, eyebrow quirked.

"Yes?" He hesitated, and I tapped my foot impatiently, crossing my arms.

"See you tomorrow." I waved lightly as he put the car into drive.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Maybe."


	6. Dad of the Year Award Goes To

If you haven't caught on already, Jeb wasn't the greatest dad. In fact, he was quite likely the _worst _father imaginable. Which was why I was not expecting him to be sitting in the foyer, waiting patiently for me to come home. Now I know that some of you are probably like, "Ew, he's _waiting _for you! I like, hate when my like, dad like, does that! Why can't he just like, leave me alone?" But as a newsflash to you, they do it because they care. And Jeb didn't care. Looking at him watching the door, though, made it almost believable that he did. As I heard the soft click of the lock behind me, he looked almost tame.

"You're back later than usual," he pointed out.

"I, uh... Was with a friend," I said tentatively. I couldn't categorize this as a lie, exactly, yet I knew it wasn't the truth.

"Anyone I know?"

Well, actually, no, seeing as you're never home and, when you are, are seldom sober enough to remember names. Funny how that works out, huh?

"Nah," I told him instead. "Just some guy in my grade named Fang." Jeb snorted.

"Fang? That's a stupid name."

I was tempted to ask him if he remembered that he named me Max, which was, as Fang so _kindly _reminded me, a boy's name. However, not wanting to instigate his temper, I simply replied, "I think his real name is Nick. Or something like that... Not Fang."

"Ah," Jeb nodded.

"Ah," I agreed.

Carefully, I tip-toed through the hallway, half hoping that he wouldn't notice if he didn't hear. How could I ever be so idiotic?

"Max!" I heard from behind me. Somewhat annoyed, I pivoted gracefully and strode back into the room as if I weren't just a tiny bit scared of what he was going to do. "I didn't tell you that our conversation was over."

His voice was deadly quiet, resonating throughout the still house. Years of, well, life, had made me used to his volatile moods.

"You didn't say it wasn't," I pointed out rudely, sneering at him.

"Have I ever told you that you look like your mother?"

I furrowed my brow in confusion. The one thing that Jeb and I tended to agree on was that if you could avoid talking about something, you could avoid thinking about something, and that that would save us all a lot of pain. Out of sight, out of mind. Of course, this was usually untrue. It wasn't like I could just forget about the woman who'd left me alone with a psycho maniac so she could go play house with some brand new family. Did she think violence was hereditary? I never hit her. Why couldn't I go too? Plus, from my vague memories of her and the one picture I'd seen and saved from the day the newspaper reported her missing. She was tanned and squat, not leggy and blonde. My hair was probably the same color as her skin.

"No?" I responded, unsure of what he was getting at.

"You have her eyes," he clarified. "Stunning, brown eyes. They were what I liked best about Valencia."

"Oh," I nodded hesitantly.

And then he did something he'd never done before. I say it nonchalantly like that because that's just what it was to me: new, unexpected, wrong, weird. He kissed me.

And if you've read any books or seen any movies, you can probably guess what happened next.

**A/N: Kind of dark chapter. Sorry it took kind of long, but I wanted to get it right, you know? Let me know what you think! Thanks to the reviewers :)**


	7. In Which I Take a Well Deserved Break

**A/N: Hey! This is kind of a filler chapter... You actually don't have to read it if you're not in the mood for some slightly dark feelings. Nothing graphic or anything, just... kinda depressing. The story will get happier, I promise! Plus, I just got on winter break, so for the next two weeks, I have nothing to do but wrap presents and write... Get ready for a surge of new chapter emails!**

Hello there. Max here, if you have failed to pay any attention to everything I've been saying. This is my quick response to what I know you're thinking but not saying... Why didn't I run?

Because yeah, Jeb wass a douche and a half, and my life wasn't going splendidly... But I had friends here. I had Iggy, and Angel, and Gazzy, and Nudge. How much of that would fit into a suitcase? And where would I even go? To my mom's clean cut, perfect Barbie family? No, thank-you. I knew when I was not wanted, and if she hated me enough to leave without so much as a goodbye, well, then... I wasn't about to go wasting my life trying to please her.

Anyways, well. Now that that's out there, I figure I might as well continue on with my story. I'm not going to go in grave detail about what happened when we last spoke, because it was nasty and painful, even if I'd rather die than admit that Jeb got to me. Let's cut to the next morning, when Jeb was to drunk to get out bed, (which was fine with me), and I had to slink out carefully, terrified of disturbing him.

Every step hurt that day. For the first time in my life, I wanted to truly, physically _kill _someone. No, not just someone: Jeb. Make him pay for what he'd done to me for sixteen years. Do you know what that's like? I'll tell you. It's awful and terrifying, and for a moment, you think that you're actually going to do it, that you can make yourself take someone's life. And you stare at the steak knives on the counter, wondering if anyone was ever thinking the same thing about you. Which is when you realize that you've just become a carbon copy of your greatest fear, and that scares you most of all, so you look away, and force yourself to leave.

I didn't wait for Iggy to come for me, even though I knew he would wait until Jeb came out and yelled drunkenly at him for loitering. I didn't trust myself or my father to be in the same house at the same time. I had a while to go until I reached school, but I knew of some bus stops that were close by, and anyways, I could just ditch for a day. Lower my voice and call in sick.

But then the bright rays of God's light showed me how to channel my anger and confusion into helpful beams of energy and charitable acts.

"Yo, Max! Where ya been?"

Or not. It's not like I have a rep to keep up-I don't think God cared much about that _one day_.

"Why are you even here, Iggy?"

He looked wounded, but his dazzling smile flickered into place in an instant.

"Because I've been driving next to you for the past mile and a half, dumbass." This caught my attention. I immediately whipped my head around at a nearby stroller.

"Language, Iggy! There are _children _around," I reprimanded, pulling open the passenger side door despite myself.

"Yeah, children. Not nuns. Besides, nothing new to them. They have TVs." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, because Dora is always dropping F-bombs. _That _makes sense."

"My car, my rules," Iggy announced with an annoying air of superiority. I glared out the window, watching as the familiar route to school flashed before my eyes.

"Where are Angel and Gazzy?" I asked, realizing for the first time that they were missing. Iggy wrinkled his nose.

"Chickenpox. I've already had it though, so I have to go to school."

I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes on the pine air freshener bouncing on the dashboard.

"You sure you don't wanna... I don't know, see a movie, or something?"

Iggy stared at me as though I'd just announced I was joining a Tibetan circus whose headquarters were in Antartica.

"See a movie?"

"I'm speaking English, aren't I?" He shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah. Dunno, thought you were all into hard work, getting a scholarship, and whatnot."

"The pythagorian theorem will wait," I pointed out. "Now drive."

Unconsciously, I hummed with the Christmas carols on the radio as the scenery flickered by once again. I hadn't thought to ask Iggy where we were actually going, other than just requesting 'a movie,' but I wasn't not completely cut up about that as we drove farther and farther away from our big, expensive homes with abundances of over-priced v-necks and fake Uggs. Reality seemed farther away than ever in our small corner of the highway. Iggy nudged the radio's volume until we were both battling to sing over Michael Buble's rendition of some cheery song about reindeer and candy canes. But then, as per usual, something bad had to go and ruin it. Because I can't ever actually have a good day, can I? Nope, that would be too easy.

But I was kind of hoping that Mistletoe by Justin Bieber wouldn't screw up my one day of ditching.


	8. Coffee Is Kinda Bitter

Westchester Mall was like a breeding ground for spoiled idiots.

All over the parking lots, girls with perfectly manicured nails slammed the door to their super fancy convertibles, several of whom were from my school.

"Guess we're not the only ones who ditched," I mused, pointing them out.

I didn't miss Iggy's eyes flicker down _way _past their eyes as he agreed. "Uh-huh." I punched his arm hard enough for his eyes to jerk back up.

"Keep it in your pants, you sexist pig!" I fumed.

If I hated anything more than cursing, it was the whole 'boys are macho and strong while girls are sexy and weak' trope. That included cheerleaders, strippers, models, housewives with fake boobs, and _definitely _the girls who acted like they just didn't know their skirt was so short as the bent down and exposed their butt to everyone. Uh, newsflash: we know you're a girl. You don't have to show us the proof. Stupid kids. Besides, didn't they know what they were practically begging for? If it could happen to me, possibly the least sexual person on Earth, it sure as hell could happen to them. I felt a strange covenant with them, as if I needed to protect them from the evil they hadn't yet met.

"Hey, if they're gonna run around with their boobs out, then I really can't be blamed," he reasoned.

"They are blinded by the chains society has put around them," I ranted. "All they want is to be recognized as someone socially successful, and it seems as if the only feasible way to do so is not to be smart or kind but to be catty snobs who are visually pleasing to perverted men!"

"So you're defending them?" Iggy confirmed.

"Ye-." I stopped. I wasn't approving of their little game of, 'let's see how many guys can fit in my new skinny jeans!' Although it was disgusting that Iggy was so... hormonal about every creature that breathed and didn't have a penis. But instead of admitting that I had dug myself into a hole, I settled for an agonizing glare at Iggy, effectively stopping any barbs he had prepared to throw at me. It was an automatic win for me.

I marched across the lot, ignoring the shocked stares of my classmates, and into an elevator. The scent of Starbucks wafted through the huge lobby of the mall, mingling with that of soft pretzels. Signs dotted the entire room, all advertising holiday deals on overpriced gifts and unnecessary trinkets. I ignored the first few easily enough, but it's like pretending you don't find the Kardashians the least bit fascinating. As much as you hate it, you get sucked back in to one thing, some way or another. And for me, that thing was coffee.

And not even just regular coffee. I am guilty of buying the expensive stuff with dark chocolate shavings everywhere if I think it will wake me up. I've been told that it'll stunt my growth if I keep at it, but I'm already pretty tall so that's a chance I'm willing to take. Besides, if that means I'll never have to buy any more clothes, than I'm okay with it.

"Are you seeing this?" I breathed to Iggy. "They have peppermint mochas and gingerbread lattes! It's like the whole holiday season in one 16 ounce cup."

"Um, actually, they both sound kind of nasty." I glared stubbornly at Iggy.

"Says the guy who was totally just creeping on some freshmen two minutes ago. Anyways," I continued as the line inched forwards. "I would not survive without coffee. I mean, how else could I keep myself from just falling asleep in class? It's kind of disturbing to listen to how dumb and boring teachers are."

"Oh!" I exclaimed without warning, gesturing wildly at some lady's drink. "They have the red Christmas cups out! This is how I can tell no one will think I'm crazy when I listen to Christmas carols," I explained to Iggy.

"Next," droned the barista emotionlessly. I dug for money in my pocket, finally pulling out a twenty dollar bill.

"One grande gingerbread latte pl-. Fang? What are you doing here?"

I wasn't really angry to see him, exactly. I mean, we still weren't on the best of terms, so it wasn't like I was making a point to run into him everywhere. I was just confused. And surprised. Which I shouldn't have been, really. How else would I fail to acknowledge his existence when we attend the same school? He probably cut everyday.

"I could ask you the same question, Maximum," he said smoothly. I rolled my eyes. He hadn't gotten any less infuriating since our last encounter, which was... Only yesterday? Funny how big events make everything seem so distant.

"Do you work here?" I prodded skeptically. I was pretty sure his employer would have caught on to the fact that he was supposed to be in school.

"On weekends," he replied nonchalantly. "Now I'm just making some overtime. My boss is ancient. He believed me when I told him Christmas break already started."

"Ah."

"Ah, indeed. Iggy, you want anything? That is, if Max isn't afraid I'm poisoning all the drinks. Because you know me. Quite the serial killer." Iggy snorted.

"You almost ran me over with your car!" I insisted. "I'm allowed to think you're a jerk." He smirked an infuriatingly good-looking smirk, punching numbers in the cash register as I slid my money over the counter.

"Glad to see where I stand. After all I thought we'd been through, too," he mused dramatically. I flicked him somewhat childishly, ignoring the roudy crowd of caffiene-addicts behind us, eager to see me leave.

"So what do you plan on doing with this overtime money?" I asked, genuinely curious. Fang didn't strike me as one of those people who was totally dependent on material things, making it hard to believe he was actually saving for anything. Well, other than a new tattoo or something emo like that. "Buying weed off the black market, smuggling Playboys out of CVSes and into your sock drawer?" I prompted.

"College, actually." He seemed strangely unperturbed by last barb, probably too proud of his educational aspirations. Ever difficult, I already had the response I needed to make him continue to look like an idiot.

"Too stupid to get a scholarship?"

"Not everyone can be as smart and athletic as you, Maximum." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"So... How long does it take to get overtime here?" Iggy pondered stupidly. "We're not going anywhere, if you wanna hang with us, or something."

_"Iggy," _I growled not-so-subtly.

I wasn't in the mood to be with strangers, no matter how safe they seemed. All I really wanted to do was lock myself in a room with the few people I trusted and never risk pain for us, any of us. Personal experience had taught me that those who should love you most wouldn't always be the people you could rely on. In fact, some part of me might have known that there was no one to really rely on, no one except yourself. Gut instinct, and all that. Laws did not completely control human nature, as governments planned. People are selfish, and they will take anything for themselves, even when you think that it's safe. _Especially _then.

"Just because Max seems so very desperate to spend time with me, I'll leave work early." Fang smirked at me, as if he knew just how annoying I found him. He didn't, of course. It was incomprehensible to the average mind, and I, being above average, still had trouble understanding the concept. Not that I'm conceited, or anything. Just honest.

* * *

><p>Fang was creative enough to suggest that we all three go to a movie (note the sarcasm), which sealed my fate with him for at least an hour and a half. He and Iggy, being boys, had obviously agreed upon some R-rated porno thriller film that made me sick, and were currently giggling about the fact that the female lead was topless without a bra on. Apparently it was a real shocker that girls had boobs. Or they were just very immature. Hm, the world will never know.<p>

Again, I found myself feeling oddly uncomfortable, as if I were the actress on the screen. It felt more wrong than the other movies I had endured with Iggy, and I promise you those were even more vulgar than this. There was a strange numbness in my heart as heated arguments unfolded before my eyes. The emotion that really came with the events in front of me was too raw and personal to portray in a single sitting, to people who didn't care, didn't know, and probably would never know how the characters really would be affected.

Of course, I saw the worst part coming from a mile away. A beautiful heroine, a jealous enemy, a kidnapping. It all fit together perfectly, but that didn't stop the bile that rose in my throat as it happened. All I could see was me and Jeb, fighting viciously before he won. I could hear my screams, the ones that nobody else did, seeing as the nearest neighbor was still miles away. I could feel the pain, both emotional and physical, that seemed so familiar yet far away. It was all I could do to slap a hand over my mouth as I ran to the bathroom, ignoring Iggy's questioning looks and the angry cries of "Get down! I'm watching a movie here!"

I could feel the cold marble of the floor through the faded knees of my jeans as I threw up what little popcorn I had forced down. Part of me wished I could throw up the past 48 hours as well, just be done with them forever. Inside the theater, the heroine was probably being rescued. She would marry the hero, even though he was kind of a jerk to her, and they would live a happy life with their children, both of them having gotten out of their predicament scot-free. It hurt to know that I couldn't do that. Who would even save me? Besides, who would deal with me after that? I was no gorgeous star in a sexy dress. No, I was just Max Ride, the feministic fraud who tolerated abuse despite claiming she never would.

Suddenly, being completely alone didn't seem as glamorous to me as it once was.

**A/N: Again, it's getting kind of dark, but I think this story is going to be pretty emotional... Not graphic, and still humorous, but it's gonna be kind of real-ish for people in those kinds of situations, you know? Review please :)**


	9. I Get My Poker Face On

**A/N: Heyyy guys! Christmas break is so great, isn't it? :D**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I realize that the whole Max and Jeb situation is disgusting, but that's the point... Like I said in the last chapter, there's people who are unfortunately forced to live that way. Anyhoo, here's the next chapter! Keep the reviews coming!**

**Oh, and by the way, I'm trying to respond to as many reviews as I can! I'm kind of new to that but I thought it would nice since I have so much free time :) So if you reviewed, look out for my reply!**

As expected, Iggy finally agreed to leave the movie when I came back from puking. Fang, ever the gentlemen, completely ignored me, too fixated on the poorly thought out plotline to care whether or not we stayed. Oddly, I found this to be somewhat helpful, as I was not in the mood to be teased endlessly and explain my sudden illness to yet another individual. No, I'm not pregnant... Yes, I got a flu shot... Seriously. Iggy was worse than those awful online diagnosis sites that made it seem like you had cancer.

I had forgotten that leaving would mean I'd actually have to go home, though, so I struggled to think of an excuse for not wanting to get out of the car.

"Max," Iggy called cautiously, as if he was afraid I was going to turn around and puke all over him. "You, uh... wanna get out?"

"Not really," I muttered. "Can we... Can we just go to your house for a little bit? I think the puking thing passed and... I just really don't wanna go back inside..." Oh, God. Here came the waterworks. There was the telltale sensation of a fishing hook pulling at my left palm, yanking me out of reality. **(This actually happens to me... I don't know if it applies to anyone else.) **

"Max," Iggy began, more softly now. "Max, don't cry... What is it?" Like the good friend he was, Iggy reached forward to awkwardly rub my shoulder. I snorted. He probably thought I was PMSing or something. I wish.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." I wiped my eyes, snapping back into bad-ass mode. My back straightened automatically as I fought to make my voice peppy. "I just had a fight with Jeb last night, that's all. I haven't really figured out what I'm going to say to him yet."

"Oh." Iggy nodded along stupidly.

"Yeah, but, um... Yeah. If we could just go to your house really quickly... that would be great. I'm fine with the whole chickenpox thing, too, so you don't have to worry about it. Had them in first grade." Iggy hesitated.

"Well... If you're sure Jeb won't mind..."

"I'm sure," I lied confidently.

"Okay then," he consented, backing out of the driveway. I should have known that I couldn't possibly be lucky enough to escape.

"Max! Max! Get inside!" My father jogged out of the house, chasing the car. Always being the polite, angel-to-parents type of kid, Iggy smiled complacently and slowed the engine, glancing at me with just a hint of confusion.

"Sorry, Mr. Batchelder. We thought it would be okay if we went out for a little after school." Jeb kept his eyes fixed on me.

"No, son, I think it would be best if Max came inside for a little talk right now."

"Shit," I murmured under my breath, momentarily forgetting my own language rule. I knew that this could be my big breakaway. I could tell Iggy to step on it, even take over control of the car if he asked any questions. But again, I felt myself fading away into worries. It wasn't like some magical castle had suddenly appeared on the horizon, serving as a haven for runaways who were not yet of age. I still was alone, and would most likely go to jail if I stole Iggy's car, where I would _still _be beat up by large old men who were accused of sexual assault. All my options sucked.

You know those 'out of body experiences' spiritual gurus always tell you about? That's kind of what it was like as I unbuckled my seat belt and climbed out of the car. I saw myself moving and knew exactly what was going on, but I was numb. Numb to the fear and worry that surrounded my entire life story, numb to Jeb's threatening stance and glare, numb to Iggy furiously motioning for me to call him later, and, most of all, numb to my own instincts. Jeb's hand clamped over my shoulder in what I was sure must have looked like a fatherly gesture to Iggy, yet my stomach clenched in apprehension and anger. Yes, I was angry. I guess I was at that stage of that big grief process. I was angry at Jeb for what he did to me. I was angry at my mom for leaving. I was angry at Iggy for not driving faster. I was angry at Nudge for talking so much that I couldn't get a word in. I was angry at Angel and Gazzy for being sick, and consequently unable to cheer me up with their childish games and demeanor. I was angry at Fang for coming in a screwing everything up. I was angry at the entire planet Earth for everything: Why couldn't we fix global warming? Why were we only now getting out of Iraq? I knew it was irrational, because honestly that stuff was far too complex for me to dabble in, but I just wanted to punch every living creature's face in.

Before I knew it, Jeb and I were inside, and Iggy was driving away. I felt my soul slam back into my body, and gathered the strength to look Jeb in the eye solidly, not flinching first or breaking the stare.

"Where you been, Max? Huh?" He slapped me for what I can only assume was dramatic effect. Jeb loved to live as if there were a million cameras on us at all times, as if this was one of his little science documentaries. Please. As if anyone could tolerate him long enough to watch an entire movie about him.

"School," I said innocently. As I felt his hand sting my face for the second time that day, I knew that that wasn't the right answer. Maybe they'd called him to check in. Maybe he was just some kind of psychic.

"Don't fuck with me, Maxy. They been calling me all day, and you sure as hell weren't home, either. So where you been? The police? You been running your mouth, you little whore?" Yeah, because I was super seductive and just begged everyone to sleep with me.

For the first time, I saw a flicker of fear in Jeb's eyes. This was my power over him, I realized. How was he supposed to know about my internal dialogue? It would only be expected that I went to the authorities after last night. This was a game, and I had the upper hand. So like any good gambler, I decided to hold out until a little later. Make him sweat it.

"Not yet," I started carefully. Jeb visibly relaxed. "But I've been thinking about it," I continued. "The headlines in the paper, especially. It would just be so sad if someone who was at the prime of their career, someone like you, turned out to be an abusive pedophile. Wouldn't it, _Dad?"_

"Yeah, yeah it would." He studied me cautiously, as if expecting me to burst outside at lightening speed crying rape. Like I had a choice. Maintaining my air of confidence, I strolled over to the steps, climbing up them smugly.

"Hey Max," he called. I barely paused. "Max, you don't talk, and it'll be better for both of us." Being careful to avert my face from him, I smirked. Yes, yes it just might be better.

**A/N: So that was Max's more kick-ass, save the world side coming out of her... What did you think? You like?**


	10. How Time Flies

**A/N: Hey! So, unfortunately, I'm kind of skipping Christmas in this story because it doesn't really make sense with the plot, and I can't see Max and Jeb exchanging gifts at this point. Can you? Yeah, didn't think so. Thanks again to all the reviewers! I didn't get a chance to respond, but I'll try to do some later tonight. If I don't put out another chapter before Christmas, Merry Christmas!**

Queen Max. That sounds nice, doesn't it? And that's what I basically was when I blackmailed Jeb like never before. My new power, to be blunt, kicked some serious ass. It wasn't perfect, of course. But it still kicked ass.

I continued to avoid Jeb as much as possible; memories of _that _night were far too fresh to start anew with my father. He just made it easier to forget he existed now that he had a dose of fear himself. It was like all that anger he usually channeled at me was now redirected towards his work. Our most recent fights, while often common and brutal, were easily won by a reminder of what he had done. He was merely a dog with a shock collar clamped around his neck; every time he barked he got stung. I couldn't help but laugh internally when I saw the expression on his face when I picked up the phone and asked innocently, "What was that number again? 9-0-0, was it? 9-1-1?"

Of course, this all evolved over the course of several long months, which I would tell you all about, but for the fear of boring you to I will now recount an abridged version of this new stage in my life.

My previously non-existent social life went uphill as well. Nudge, the little sister I shared with Fang, took a vow to help me become 'more of a girl' and fulfill my true potential as a 'steaming hot mug of vanilla latte.' This was all done without my approval, and Fang was most definitely at fault. Knowing it would annoy me to no end, he told Nudge tales of me longing to be popular and mainstream, which lead to her making me her new project. Ever seen Wicked? Well, then just picture Nudge as Glinda and me as Elphaba. It was easily one of the most irritating experiences of my life, but even I must admit that I slowly learned to enjoy her company.

"So what are we?" she asked me one day as she cleaned out my closet, flinging t-shirt after t-shirt onto a steadily growing pile. (I didn't even know I had that many clothes.)

For a moment, I was terribly afraid that she was gay, and this was her way of taking it to the next level. Not that I was homophobic at all. It was fine is she was lesbian, I just... wasn't, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship with an extremely awkward rejection.

"Uh... What do you mean?" I asked cautiously. She rolled her eyes.

"I _mean, _are we friends, or are we like, close friends, or are we best friends, or have we become total and complete besties, or are we just sisters at this point?" I exhaled in relief, although I was slightly puzzled how to respond. "Because, like, I _was _like, _serious_ sisters with Tamara, but then she went and stabbed me in the back like you _would not _believe... Did I tell you about this?"

"Yes, Nudge," I answered in a vain attempt to prevent a complete regaling on the trials of her life.

"No, I didn't," she continued obliviously. "Yeah, no, we did not talk about Tamara. Because the thing is, she was telling everyone about my crush on Parker Wilkens, which was like, not cool. And I asked her about it after science yesterday like, 'Hey, Tamara, WTF is your problem?' And she was all like, 'Girl, you have lost your mind if you think I was the one blabbing to everyone about your pathetic little obsession,' so I was like, 'Then you better lock me up in some kind of asylum,' and there was like a crowd and all gathering like we were gonna have a catfight, but that is _tacky _to the max-and not like_ you_ Max, like max like the word maximum-so I was like, 'You stay out of my business, Tamara,' and I left because I am the bigger person, you know?" I resisted the temptation to slam my head against a wall. Although, I couldn't imagine myself having thsi conversation with anyone but a sibling that I truly cared about, so I boldly answered,

"Then I guess I'm gonna have to be your sister instead." This cause Nudge to have a mini panic attack, and she flung herself at me, squeezing me uncomfortably closely. I tried to reciprocate, but before I could she was jumping up and down clapping on the other side of the room.

_"_OM_F_G Max, we are gonna have _so _much fun! 'Cause now we can tell each other, like _everything, _and we should even know like the boring stuff about each other, like, what our favorite colors are, and-"

"You mean this hasn't been the boring stuff?" I exclaimed in mock despair, and she punched my arm lightly.

"Max, don't be mean to me!" she whined, pouting. "I'm your little sister."

And so I started spending more time at her and Fang's house, ignoring his shocked expression whenever I ran upstairs with her. It was only a matter of time, though, before we were forced to speak to each other, at which point I tried my best to be civil, and he didn't try at all.

"Have you missed me so much that you had to come see me, Max?" he goaded me from the kitchen as I sat on the couch. Nudge wasn't home yet, even though I'd made her promise a _million _times she would be.

"Actually, I'm waiting for your sister," I hissed, struggling to keep my patience.

"What, got a crush on her?" I rolled my eyes in response. "I always wondered why you never succumbed to my charm, but now I think I might know the answer-"

"You're a disgusting, sexist skeezeball who's incredibly self-absorbed?" I shot back. Fang snorted.

"Ha, ha, Maxy." He didn't elaborate on this, instead beginning a long search for baking materials. I held back a guffaw.

"You bake, Fang?" He glared at me.

"Who was just calling who sexist? I'm defying gender stereotypes." I stood up, crossing the room to lean over the counter and watch him.

"I wasn't being _sexist," _I lied. Yes, I admit it, maybe I was being a _little _sexist. But just because Fang always acted so macho! Anyways, I had to come up with some new excuse as to why I was surprised he liked to bake, so I said, "I was just thinking about how ridiculous you'd look if I did _this."_

And with that, I crushed an egg into his hair. Shocked with myself, I cackled loudly as the yoke slid down his ear and the whites trickled into his eyes. He said nothing, though. In fact, he remained silent for so long that I almost was scared that he was allergic to eggs, or something, and that his throat was closing up. _Almost. _Because just as I was about to call 911, he whipped the liquid out of his eyes furiously, and stared me down.

"You did _not. _Just do that," he announced solemnly, stepping towards me. I snickered to myself before responding.

"It would appear as though I did." He cracked a small smile before grabbing a measuring cup filled to the brim with flour, and thrusting it at my face. I screamed so girlishly that if you tell anyone, I'll have to deny it.

"This is war," I whispered to him through a grin before coating him with baking powder straight out of the box. He dug his hand into a jar of frosting, reaching over to me in order to smear it on my face. In counterattack, I pelted him with hardened brown sugar, which was met with a flurry of chocolate chips. I batted them away form my face, deftly opening the salt shaker and dusting his clothes with its contents. His face was like some kind of abstract modern painting that you always wonder, _How did they think of THAT? _about. Now, I guess I knew. After several more rounds of baking goods including Crisco and vanilla were catapulted across the room, I slipped an ice cube down his shirt and, I swear to God, he _growled. _I giggled nervously at his murderous face.

"Oops," I tittered in a voice much higher than my own. He took a dramatic step forward. I screeched in uncharacteristic apprehension, sprinting away from him and into the living room.

"I was baking a cake for my Mom's birthday!" he bellowed from behind me, but I heard the laughter in his voice.

"Now she can bake you instead!" I yelled back. Suddenly, arms wrapped snugly around my waist, dragging me back into the kitchen. My heart hammered against my chest as I saw his hand pick up a pitcher overflowing with syrup.

"No, no, no," I squealed, struggling against his grasp. I had once had a disastrous mishap with the sugary, sticky fluid while making pancakes, and I was not in the mood to shower for ten hours again. This, of course, had no effect on Fang, and I winced as I felt a cold liquid engulf me. For the first time ever, I heard him burst into laughter as he leaned over my shoulder to see my disgusted face. Discreetly, while he distracted, I took the opportunity to pick up a full stick of butter, smashing it into his open mouth mercilessly. He gagged at the taste, but I held it firm, at which he poured more syrup over me, at which I stuffed more butter into his mouth, and so it became a vicious cycle. I was so caught up in it, I completely forgot Nudge.

_"Max! _I am _soooo _sorry I'm late, but my ride cancelled, and you and Fang weren't picking up your phones, so I had to ask Iggy for a ride with Angel and Gazzy and stuff, and now _his _car's broken down, so we all just walked here since it was closer than their house, and-" We didn't hear them until too late. It may seem unbelievable that we failed to notice that string of words, but keep in mind that this is _Nudge _we're talking about. She can spit out twice that in a millisecond flat. And so she, Iggy, Angel, and Gazzy walked in on our food fight awkwardly.

I know how it must have looked, really, I do. Fang's arm holding me to him, my hand on his lips. But I cannot bring myself to understand why Nudge would _possibly _respond the way she did.

"Oh. My. God. You guys were _totally _getting it on!" she concluded to my chagrin. "And you're gonna be like the new Ross and Rachel, like on _Friends_, and you're gonna break up every five minutes and then have like, _intense _make-up sex, and-"

_"God, no," _Fang and I denied at the same time, now a good ten feet apart.

"She just-," he tried to say, only to be interrupted by a tirade of voices.

"Max, I thought you _hated _Fang!"

"...And we're all gonna be in the wedding partayyyy..."

"Ooh, Max, Fang, can I be your flower girl?"

"This whole situation is makin' me feel kind of sick... Hey, where's the bathroom around here?"

"Everyone _shut. Up," _I commanded loudly, distracting everyone from their own personal monologues. "Fang and I did not have sex, or make out, or even _kiss. _And we never _will _kiss. I hate him, and he hates me, you got that?"

_"Sure, _Max," Iggy said smugly. He wasn't unconscious for _too_ long after Fang and I pounced on him.

Despite my declaration that Fang and I would always hate each other, we were pushed closer and closer together as our circle of friends solidified. We were unofficially crowned the leaders of the group. We laughed, we joked, we actually spoke to each other. I began to forget my strong first impression of him as the worst type of human being imaginable, and grew to tolerate, and then maybe trust him just as much, if not more than, the others. So, after a while, I found myself asking him almost the same question that Nudge asked me.

"Hey, Fang, are we friends?" He smirked crookedly, and I was struck again by his good looks.

"Why, you wanna be more?" I rolled my eyes playfully at him, a trace of a smile on my face.

"I was just making sure you knew your boundaries." I was used to our sometimes sharp banter by now, and I even enjoyed it. "Seriously, though," I continued, my smile fading. "Are we friends?" Fang furrowed his brow.

"Yeah, of course we are, Max."

"I thought so."

And somehow, I left that conversation feeling a little happier than I should have been.

**A/N: Aww, fluff! You like? Tell me in the reviews! Yeah, this is fast, but truthfully I love Fax too much to keep them enemies much longer. :)**


	11. Fang Is Not Smexy

You know, when you hung out with Fang, sometimes you saw things you didn't need to see. Like today. He had somehow dragged me into some childish prank he wanted to pull on Iggy, and we were now trapped in a closet, watching two overweight teachers make-out through a crack in the door.

"I thought you said Iggy had class in here, idiot," I growled, fighting to keep the puke down.

"He _does," _Fang frowned, sounding more confused than disgusted. "But he's not here." I rolled my eyes.

"No shiz, Sherlock. So now we have to watch a porn flick starring two rhinos... Thanks for this." My point was proved by the sound of the male teacher pushing the female teacher against the door, which creaked loudly at the weight. I winced.

"My poor virgin ears," Fang whimpered. This caught my attention.

"You're a virgin?" I demanded. Despite the fact that the closet was pitch black, I could see his blush.

"It's an expression," he defended himself. I smirked. "But, yes, if you must know, I am a virgin. Aren't you?" My heart dropped. I had dug myself into some deep shit. Fang was going to figure it out, and he was going to tell everyone, and my life was going to be virtually over. I squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"Uh, yeah, of course I am," I lied nervously. He seemed to believe this, nodding thoughtfully before a mischievous smirk came to his face.

"Why are you so surprised I'm a virgin?" I blanched.

"Uh... I'm not."

"Yes you are. You just don't want to admit it. You think I'm too sexy to not be a virgin."

"I am _so _not having this conversation with you right now," I huffed under my breath, desperately looking at anything but Fang's face.

"Yes, you are," he countered, chuckling. "Just admit that you think I'm smexy and this will all be over."

"Fang, you are not sexy, and you are definitely not 'smexy.'"

"So you have never found me the least bit attractive?"

"Nope," I told him confidently.

"You're a good liar," he scoffed.

"Am I?"

"Yup. Just not good enough to make me believe you..." I stomped stubbornly, checking on whether the classroom was infested with trolls getting their sexytime on.

"Thank God," I breathed when I found the coast clear, pushing lightly on the door. Unfortunately, Fang caught me first. He held the door closed with one hand, and forced me further back into the depths of the closet.

"Say I'm sexy and you can leave."

"This is ridiculous," I declared. "Now let me go."

"Max," he whispered. Suddenly, I felt his breath tickle my ear. "Just... say the three little words I want hear." He nuzzled my neck. And what can you say to _that? _

_"Youaresexy,"_ I breathed. Immediately, he backed away, smirking. Blood rushed to my cheeks. "Fine," I said louder. "You are sexy."

"You think I'm sexy," he sang.

"You said you'd let me go," I reminded him.

"Just let me gloat for a second, okay?" I frowned. It was _not _okay, seeing as I had admitted my non-feelings for Fang under false pretenses. I didn't _really_ think he was sexy, of course. I just said that I did. Because, hey, everyone has their moments.

"You think I'm sexy," Fang interrupted my thoughts. I narrowed my eyes.

"Because you sedu-." And then I had an epiphany. Fang had completely and totally seduced me. Anger welled inside of me. Not many people were able to trick me, and when they were, they rarely lived to tell the tale. And seducing people, well. Two could play at that game.

"Yes, I said you're sexy," I simpered. "But haven't you ever thought _I'm _sexy?" I trailed my hand absently down his chest and rested my cheek on his shoulder. "Because you'd hurt my feelings so badly, and besides..." I leaned up to whisper in his ear, my lips brushing his skin. "It's only natural." Within seconds, Fang had the door wide open for me, but I didn't miss the fact that he was breathing just a little bit faster and his cheeks were scarlet red.

"Thanks, loser," I grinned as I strolled out into freedom.

"Yeah, yeah," Fang muttered.

"Oh, and by the way?" He looked up at me expectantly. I leaned forward, close enough to kiss him, which I might have done if I had really found him sexy. Which I didn't. So I didn't kiss him. Because Fang's not sexy, right?

"Yeah?" he breathed.

"You're not sexy."

I pivoted, running away from him as fast as I could, shrieking with laughter. I heard his footsteps speeding up behind me as he gave chase, and I put on an extra burst of speed. I wasn't not track team champion for nothing. I ran until I couldn't hear him behind me, and slumped down against the lockers, laughing breathlessly. No, Fang totally wasn't sexy.

...Or maybe he was. Just a little bit, though. In a platonic, friends, kind of way. _Maybe. _

**A/N: FAX! I didn't love the writing of that, but it's been bouncing around in my mind forever so I thought I'd get it out there. Review, please! Do YOU think Fang is sexy?**

__**(Uh, how could you not?)**


	12. Stabbed In The Back

Lissa Gerald was a bona fide bitch.

And I know about my language rules, but sometimes there's only one way to say something. This was one of those times.

Lissa and I had never really been friends, exactly, but we had a certain level of respect for each other. We both did what we had to to live the life we wanted to live and were okay with the consequences of that. Then came that hell called high school, where her already impressively high level of sluttiness went off the charts and she learned of the benefits of being 'popular.'

Since I'm not a whiny baby, I ignored her at first. When she told me my new haircut was ugly, I told her that her face was ugli_er. _When she asked if I liked running because I was too socially awkward to tolerate being in the same vicinity as normal people, I told her I was running from obesity, although it seemed to have caught her already. None of this deterred her, though. So she and I became mortal enemies and if I ever died and went to Hell, her annoying, arrogant little giggle would be my torture. What was worse?

Fang liked her.

I don't mean he was all googly-eyed over her or anything, because Fang had a total of about two facial expressions: bored or smug. It's not physically possible for him to react to someone like that. But one day at lunch when she was just really bothering me, I was venting to my dear group of friends, and they were all like, "Yeah Max, she's totally annoying," like the smart people they are, when Fang goes:

"She's not that bad."

Which, loosely translated into Fang language, means that he thought she was the effing bomb. Which she totally wasn't.

"OMG Fang! How could you ever think she's not that bad? She is like, so obnoxious, with her whole, 'holier than thou' thing, and her little sister, Penny, is like the sweetest thing ever, and she invited me over to her house this once and I went, and I saw Lissa, and I was like, 'Hey,' because that's what nice people do, right, they greet each other?" Nudge waited for us to answer. When no one did, she continued, "And so she was like, 'Ew, loser, why are you talking to me?' and had this look like-" Here Nudge demonstrated the 'look,' which was apparently some mix of constipation and disgust. "-And it was just _not cool, _although her hair is like totally _hawt, _and that's the color I would dye my hair if I ever dyed it, because Julie Anderson told me that I could totally pull off red hair, so what do you guys think?"

As usual, we mostly ignored her and continued on with our conversation.

"Fang, she's the devil incarnate. She is Satan's response to Jesus. However you put it, she's just a snobby bitch," I informed him heartily. "God, she makes Charlie Sheen seem tame. You know how crazy you have to be to make Charlie Sheen look normal? Pretty crazy."

"Plus she goes through guys like Gazzy goes through bad tacos," Iggy pointed out. "You don't want to get involved with her, dud_e. _I'm telling you this from _experience." _I furrowed my brow.

"You mean from Charlie's party last year? I thought you said nothing happened?" Iggy gave me a sidelong glance.

"Max, if I had told you I hooked up with her, would I still have my balls today?"

"No," I admitted sullenly.

"Exactly," Iggy said.

"Fang's not listening to you," Angel sing-songed suddenly, smirking across the table. Fang rolled his eyes.

"All I'm saying is that she's not the worst thing to have happened to Earth. Never said I was in love with her."

"Wow, that was... 1,2,3... 23 words that Fang just said about her. Sounds serious," Gazzy joked, looking up from his plate full of cafeteria slop. Common misconception about overly expensive private schools: they have good food. In reality, all of their food sucks.

"Guys, let's just change the subject, alright?" Fang requested, exasperated with our conviction that he wanted to marry Lissa. "I've said like, two words to the girl."

"Fine," I huffed, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms. "But don't say we didn't warn you."

_"Fang!" _an annoyingly relevant voice chirped from behind me. I slumped further down in my seat as the Red-Haired Wonder herself strolled over to our table, boobs out for the world to see.

"Hello to you, too, Lissa," I muttered. As usual, she deemed me too unworthy of her time to even acknowledge, except for with a disdainful glare that I guessed was 'look' she had given to Nudge.

"Fang, you silly boy, how did you wind up sitting here? I have a place for you saved at _my _table if you want to ditch these losers." She placed a hand on her jutting hip, leaning in, just in case Fang had forgotten to put in his contacts and couldn't see her clearly.

"These are my friends, Lissa," Fang explained evenly. Aw, isn't that sweet? Fang sticking up for his socially inferior _friends. _How heroic of him.

Lissa, however, seemed to find this absurd, and threw her head back, cackling loudly. I wondered briefly to myself if she was the granddaughter of the voice actor for those evil scientists in movies who laugh for prolonged amounts of time like, 'Ha, ha, ha... _Ha, _ha, ha!'

"Fang, you are just _too _nice. But these freaks are hopeless cases. You can't save them. So you don't have to pretend to like the imbeciles."

_"Imbeciles," _I repeated in mock excitement. "Lissa, you are using _such_ big words!" Iggy snorted.

"My... Poor... Pea brain... Cannot... Comprehend," Gazzy said in a robotic voice, faking muscle spasms. "System... Shutting down... Now." Now it was our turn to laugh as Lissa rolled her eyes and flipped her hair at our evident immaturity and treated Fang to his own personal peep show in the middle of the cafeteria.

"Whatever," she droned. "Call me, Fang."

"Yeah, we can talk later, Lissa," Fang nodded. My face heated in anger.

"Talk later?" I demanded. "Did you not just witness that altercation? She's a bitch!"

"Yeah, because she is like, totally out of line," Nudge reinforced. "And I am _not _an imbecile. At least I can count past size 0, so I can find a shirt that doesn't make me look like a stripper." I stifled a laugh at Nudge's insult. "So, like, Fang, you just cannot 'talk later' with her, because she is like, just, completely mean and if you do it, we are all gonna be so majorly pissed that you won't even know what's going on, and _especially _Max because everyone knows they are just like, like, I don't know, who are two really famous people who hate each other?" She barely paused before answering her own thought. "They are like Jay Leno and David Letterman, m'kay? It is like, _ri_diculous how mean Lissa is to Max, who is like the best big sister _ever." _I placed a hand over my heart dramatically.

"Aw, thank-you Nudge, you're not too bad yourself." She batted her eyes at me. "But seriously, Fang," I continued. "She's a living nightmare."

"Well, excuse me, Max, but you didn't seem super nice to her either." The entire table gasped collectively at Fang's insult. "Just saying."

We sat in an angry silence for all of thirty seconds, which was impressive, considering that Nudge was still sitting there. Apparently whatever her mom had packed her for lunch was too good to leave uneaten.

"Hey, guys," Gazzy began randomly. I mentally prepared myself for whatever strange thought he was sure to share with us. "Do you think bread... is _flammable?_ No, right?"We all glared at him for interrupting our silent vigil, except for Iggy.

"Nah, man, it is," he said. "Remember, I set it on fire in the toaster I few years ago?"

"Oh, yeah," Gazzy nodded. At that moment, Fang and my glare-off became too intense for him, and he huffed away angrily. Everyone except the two pyros followed immediately, stalking off into different directions.

Who did he think he was? Despite him being _this _close to killing me, I had forgiven him and become his accomplice in all of his ludicrous ideas that could never work. He couldn't just throw that away become some hot girl was into him. And whatever happened to friendship code, and loyalty, and all that jazz? Plus, he was really just being a bystander of the bullying going on between Lissa and us. I was _not _about to become a scapegoat.

So here I was, all ready to give Fang a piece of my mind, when I saw something that was so disgusting and confusing and wrong that I nearly threw up.

It look like Fang had learned another facial expression: kissy face.

Because how else would he make-out with Lissa in the middle of the hallway?

**A/N: I like this chapter better than the last one. Fax will soon be coming in abundance :) Review please!**


	13. Green With Envy

I once read a quote that said, 'God made men before women because you always make a rough draft before the masterpiece.'

Never did I understand the meaning of those words like I did now. Because, you know, God must have really screwed up when he made Fang if he thought it was okay for him to go behind my back and suck face with my arch-enemy, and then come and talk to me the next day like nothing happened. So, I did what any average teenage girl would do. I had a mini temper tantrum, which, in retrospect, was not my finest moment. Although it was totally warranted. _Totally._

"Are you being serious right now?" I snarled. He quirked an eyebrow up.

"What do you mean...?" Huffing, I crossed my legs and flipped my hair. Which is super girly, I know. But, contrary to popular belief, I _am _actually a regular girl.

"I mean that I saw you playing tonsil hockey with your little girlfriend," I snapped. "Did you really think we wouldn't find out? And I'm not talking about just me, I'm talking about _all _of us, because, if you didn't notice, that Red-Haired Wonder is a total female dog to everyone, including your little sister, who she recently called Dark Chocolate because she forgot her name." Fang hesitated.

"Well, _that _is kind of offensive-"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Very."

"-But I never signed a contract saying that by being your friend, we had to share every opinion," he continued, holding a hand up to silence my rebuttal. "And I don't think Lissa's that bad, so I'm allowed to _talk _to her."

"Looks like you guys have done a bit more than talking to me," I grumbled.

"Mature, Max," he spat.

"God, Fang... Why are you so infuriating? I don't care that you have a different opinion than me, I care that you're rubbing it in my face non-stop and doing it _because _I disagree!" Fang stared at me blankly.

"Yes, Maximum, because I planned for you to walk into the room at that exact second in time, just so I could piss you off," he said sarcastically. "Look, I could _genuinely _like this girl, Max. You don't know that I'm only doing it to... rebel, or something."

"Yes, Fang, I suppose you _could _genuinely like Lissa, if you were a _pimp," _I declared, gesticulating wildly. "Besides, _do _you genuinely like her? Because I don't think you do." Fang looked at me strangely, eye twitching.

He took a wide stride to me swiftly, so that our noses were almost touching. Breath hitching, I stumbled backwards.

"Do you like her?" I repeated.

"What would you do if the answer was 'yes?'" he inquired softly. I blushed at his intense scrutiny, looking at the ground.

"I- I guess I would..." I struggled to answer the question without sounding like a lunatic. The sight of Fang with Lissa had made me feel sick in a way I'd never felt before. It was impossible to name the rolling waves of anger in my stomach, despite how hard I tried. I was used to everything fitting into separate categories, and making sense, yet suddenly it just... didn't. I began to wonder if I was mad about the Lissa part of all of this, or the fact that Fang had kissed someone... Other than me. Which was ridiculous, of course, because we'd never kissed before and I didn't date. "Try... and support you and your happiness," I finished weekly, feeling myself getting sick at the thought of Fang and Lissa growing old together.

"Maximum Batchelder, are you... Jealous?" Fang raised an eyebrow at me evilly, one side of his mouth curving into a smirk.

Jealous. That was a word I supposed could fit what I was feeling. But it was just impossible. I was a one-woman show. I didn't _do_ relationships and all the baggage that came with them. There was no one but me, and I liked that. You never know with other people; they're flight and uncontrollable. At least I could tell somewhat what was going on with myself. So I wasn't jealous of Fang choosing to put all of his feelings on the line, since it would only result in both people feeling sucky. I wasn't jealous. I couldn't be.

"Of course not," I retorted with a moment's hesitation. "I'm just... Surprised, that's all."

Yes, I was surprised. I was used to knowing everything about Fang, and I was thrown off now that he acted so out of character. That was perfectly understandable.

"Okay. So you wouldn't be mad if I, say, asked her out tomorrow?" I furrowed my brow. Would I be?

"No," I answered myself firmly. "I-I would just hope that you were taking your friends' feelings into consideration, and-and that you understood how she acted to all of us. You included. Because what you don't understand... Is that she uses people and throws them away. I-" I looked down, embarrassed by what I was about to say. "I don't want you to get hurt, that's all."

Somebody better go check and see if pigs grew wings, because Fang's eyes actually seemed to _soften. _

_"Max," _he said affectionately. "You don't actually think that I like Lissa like that?" I blushed.

"Well, um, I-I guess not." He cupped my chin, forcing me too look at him.

"Max, you have nothing to worry about."

"Who said I was worried?" I said coolly, raising my eyebrows at him. He scoffed.

"Whatever you say Maximum," he sang, walking backwards. "Whatever you say."

Logically, this conversation should have made me feel better. Fang didn't actually care for the Red-Haired Wonder and our friendship was safe. And yet, I couldn't help but feel the suffocating sensation that I was missing something, and if I could just figure it out, everything would make sense. I couldn't imagine what the missing puzzle piece might be, and besides, I had a bigger problem.

Could I actually be jealous?


	14. Hair Of The Dog That Bit Me

Lunch the next day was awkward, to say the least. Not really on Fang's part, because he never speaks anyways and is always off in his emo corner, but I have to admit that I was displaying some anti-social behavior.

The entire period, I just sat there, biting my lip and staring at an invisible bug on the table, all the while rocking back and forth in my seat. Fang was my friend. That was it. Fang was allowed to like other girls. There wasn't some kind of law against it. It was expected, really. We were both hormonal teens. We'd find people attractive, and that was all that was going on. I shouldn't care about that. But I did. Or, I didn't. Because Fang had said I was jealous, and that was really just him putting words in my mouth. Nothing more.

_"Ma-_ax," Nudge whined. "Did you even _hear_ what I just said?" I glanced up at her, positive there was some kind of drool hanging out of my mouth.

"Wha?" I managed, wiping my face. Everyone turned to stare at me like I was some kind of monster. I groaned inwardly. I had succeeded in looking like an idiot on pot while thinking about my not-so-platonic best friendship with Fang. His eyes were boring holes into my face especially.

"Nudge was just saying how upset she is about her history grade," Fang explained in his creepily calm, serial killer voice.

"Oh," I responded shortly, hoping to distract myself from the unpleasant feeling that someone was watching me. "You're a... a... sophomore, right? So you're studying US History." Nudge nodded sullenly.

"Yeah. And it like, totally sucks, because I can't even concentrate on the book in _class, _because Tommy Hadley is like, _so _hot and he sits, like, _literally _right next to me, so like, it's really not my fault even though Mr. Hawkins is totally insane and thinks I'm an unmotivated hooligan, which is a direct quote from him, I swear, and like, who even says 'hooligan' anymore, right? I think it's because he's like 102 and is kind of losing his marbles and like, needs help to pee and stuff, and, _speaking _of stupid teachers, what about Ms. Darrel in English, because, like, I mean, she always takes points off for run-on sentences which is like, _ridiculous-"_

"You? Run-on sentences? Absolutely appalling," Iggy deadpanned. Nudge glared at him, flipping her hair back.

"I have a lot to say, and like, you better listen, because the things I say are pretty important," she defended herself. "What do _you _think Max? Because, you know, you are just like, _so _nice and understanding, so you could really teach these guys a lesson and then they would look really stupid and obnoxious, which they already do, but then they would know they do, so it would just be like, a more rewarding thing, you know?" I shrugged.

"I think that if you need to stop thinking about Tommy Hadley in History then you should just ask him out," I suggested. Nudge's jaw dropped.

"Uh, no. Way. That's totally weird, because you know, guys are just like, supposed to ask girls out, and I am all for feminism and bra burning and whatever so don't say I'm like, sexist, or whatever, but chivalry is not dead and if he said no, I would just be _so _humiliated. So it sucks. That's why girls go through childbirth, 'cause guys do all the awkward stuff, ya know?"

"Sure Nudge," I said indulgently, not even bothering to argue with her.

"Wait, can I take one of my last statements back?" She looked around at us nervously. "Because bra burning isn't really my thing. I don't know how it could be anyone's thing, really, because it's kind of uncomfortable to have everything just out and being all bumpy and stuff, if you know what I mean, and also it's like walking around naked, because then everyone can see everything, and I mean _everything _under your shirt, and sometimes people have that problem _with _a bra, so just, why would you do that? It's like, so stupid, you know?" Iggy, Gazzy and Fang looked like they were about to explode.

"Nudge," I reminded her with false cheer. "We're in mixed company." She looked confusedly at me before realization dawned on her face.

_"Ooooh," _she nodded. "Sorry, guys."

"Uh-huh," the murmured in unison, Gazzy looking green.

"Wonderful, Nudge. You've gotten the gas machine started," I told her.

"She's gonna blow..." Gazzy moaned.

We were all ten feet away from the table before the stench got out.

* * *

><p>Don't you just love when teachers choose your project partners for you? (If you didn't get the sarcasm in that, you probably shouldn't be reading this at all.)<p>

Because there I was, minding my own business in Science class, when Mr. Jacobsen decides we all need to unite and work together and all that sentimental jazz. And he concocts this magical little hat with all of our names in it to pick partners for the Science fair, like we're in some feel good movie from the fifties, and assigns me to my favorite person in the world.

Lissa.

So if you've been paying any attention at all to what I've been saying, you'll know that I hate Lissa with a burning passion. But because I'm a mature, smart young lady I decided to separate business from pleasure and speak civilly with her.

"So, Lissa, can you speak or is your tongue too tired from making out with every boy you lay your eyes on?"

Or maybe not.

"Are you referring to Nicholas, Max?" she demanded, arching her eyebrows at me. I reddened.

"I was referring to the fact that you're a slut," I muttered. "Not anyone in particular." She smirked at me. Obviously my skills of deception had declined since I used them last.

"It's so sad, too," she sighed innocently. "There was so much hope for you in the beginning." I whipped my head up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She shrugged with one shoulder.

"I_ mean_ that it's no secret you have a pretty face and could've really made something of yourself in high school. But, I guess you're too holy to even consider having a legitimate social life. Even if I could still help you with that..."

"Are you suggesting something?" She laughed.

"Suggesting? No, no, _God, _no. I'm just saying that karma still applies. You do something good for me... I do something good for you. Win-win situation, you know?"

I let the ghost of a smile stain my face. I got where she was going with this. There wasn't anything in particular I needed, and I definitely didn't just want to climb the social ladder, but it's always good to have back-up in case something goes wrong. One day I'd have a favor to cash in.

"What would you have in mind?" I asked skeptically. She grinned.

"Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that." She looked sideways at me. "You'd have to help me bump up my grades, of course. And maybe take over some of my chores? Just on nights where I have other things going on." I considered this.

"And then you'll do anything, anytime for me?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Within reason." I held out a hand.

"Well, then, Lissa. You've got yourself a deal."

Now I know you're all cringing and hitting the screen with a baseball bat or something, but I told you: Lissa and I were both women of business; we had the same modus operandi. If I thought something was going to come in handy one day, I took it. Besides, you know what they say.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer.

**A/N: You like? This is my really dramatic chapter. What do you think will happen next? You probably won't have to wait long to find out, because I have nothing to do ALL DAY xD Review please!**


	15. The Pot Calls The Kettle Black

I can't believe I'm about to say this.

But Lissa was growing on me.

I was beginning to realize that she _had _to be a bitch to compensate for her general lack of a brain, and couldn't be blamed for anything that came out of her mouth because she rarely knew what it meant. In reality, she was just a poor little toddler, begging to be set free from her teenage body.

The requirements of our deal were simple: I tutored her and babysat her littlest sister (who was surprisingly nice and unspoiled) when she had some party to go to. Sure, it wasn't the best time I'd ever had, but it got me out of the house when Jeb was in a bad mood, and the things Lissa was able to do for me were worth it. And I don't mean that in a perverted way, just that if someone was rude to me or my friends, I got Lissa to take care of it, and she bought me almost everything I asked for. It was like the spoiled childhood that every kid in Greenwich, CT had except for me.

"Maximum," I heard her hiss while I loaded books into my locker.

"Yes, Lissa?" I smirked.

"Are you babysitting Gigi tonight for me? Carl Hicks is having a party and I just got invited. He's a _senior." _

"I don't know, Lissa," I sighed, pretending I had some more desirable activity planned. "Tonight's not the best night for me." Lissa pouted.

_"Please, _Max! It's Carl Hicks!" she begged.

"What's in it for me?" I demanded. Just because I didn't want to strangle her anymore didn't mean I was adverse to totally taking advantage of her.

"Lulu Lemon giftcard?" she suggested. I leaned against my locker, rubbing my chin.

"Mm... Nah." I moved to walk away before she caught my arm and pulled me back.

"I am _begging _you, Max," she pleaded. "Lulu Lemon gift card... and... and a really nice camera! You like photography, right?"

_"That _I might be able to do," I sneered. I froze in shock when Lissa threw her arms around me.

"Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you! I swear to _God, _you're the _best!" _

"And _I _swear to God, I'll kill you if you don't get off of me in five seconds," I warned her sweetly.

"Right, sorry," she mumbled. "Uh, thanks Max." I nodded in acknowledgement, watching her as she walked away. Should I have felt guilty for being so harsh to her? Probably. Did I? Not at all. This is _me _and_ Lissa _we're talking about here.

My thoughts were interrupted by the world's only speaking shadow appearing behind me and breathing on my neck in a gross violation of personal space.

"Cut it out, Fang," I commanded, spinning to face him.

"Cut what out?" he asked innocently. I glared at him. He smiled. "Fine. But first, tell me, did I really just see Lissa Gerald hug you?" I shrugged non-chalantly.

"I decided that it was time to get to know your little girlfriend."

"She's _not _my girlfriend," he growled adamantly.

"Oh, of course not, excuse me. Your sex buddy," I corrected myself sarcastically.

"So have you told everyone about your new found friendship with Lissa?" I blushed, but didn't falter in my answer.

"I don't know, have you told them about _yours?" _

"That was a one-time thing," he muttered.

"Really? Because Lissa sure didn't seem to think so when she was telling me all about how perfect you are for each other."

Lie. Lissa had hardly mentioned Fang except to say that he wasn't as great of a kisser as she expected. Why was I lying about that? God, I hated high school.

"Just be careful, Max. You could really hurt your friends' feelings with this," he warned me. I rolled my eyes.

"Says the boy who swapped spit with her," I finished for him. "Besides, it's not like I'm actually close to her. We have a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yeah. I tutor her, and she gives me the things that I need. How else do you think I got Jen Sampers to stop telling everyone that you spent a year in juvy for dealing drugs?"

"She said that?"

"Uh, yeah. Who else would of?" I bit my lip. "Look, I'm doing this to help you. You should be happy. Okay?" I patted him on the shoulder and turned to walk to class. This time, no one pulled me back. Had Fang forgotten the events of the last week? Because I hadn't. That being said, I was not about to let him run around ranting about ethics with me. I had it under control. All of it.


	16. Thanks A Lot, Kristen Chenoweth

"Hey Max?"

"Yes, Lissa?" I sighed, hardly looking up from my pre-Calc textbook. Only a few sessions of tutoring Lissa had taught me that her questions were so simple that it would usually take me about thirty seconds to answer them.

"I don't think that Shakespeare passed English class, because none of this makes sense."

"Lissa, it's the language of the time," I muttered. "Just remember that 'thee', 'thy', and 'thou' are all different ways to say 'you.'" Lissa pouted.

"You're too smart," she whined. "You need a boyfriend, or something." This got my attention. I studied her from across the table, searching her eyes for malice. Surprisingly, I found none.

"Was that supposed to be an insult?" I asked cautiously. She laughed.

"No, silly. I'm just saying that I know a ton of guys who think you're hot, and if you went out with one of them, you wouldn't have to waste your time worrying about dead people."

"Again, I'm not sure if that was a complement or not." We studied in silence for a few moments before my curiosity got the better of me. "Who thinks I'm hot?" I squeaked in a tone way too girlish to actually be me.

"A lot of people," she informed me nonchalantly. "Sam Redding."

Sam Redding was the school's soccer star, and, alternatively, man-whore. Visually, he was fairly good-looking, with lemony blond hair and stereotypically blue eyes. Mentally, he had all the emotional and intellectual depth of a twig. Not that I'm judging, of course. Besides, Lissa had turned out to be tolerable. Who said Sam couldn't be the same way? Plus, I was a teenage girl. I had hormones.

"Oh," I said, trying to sound like I didn't care, when really, that little five year old ballet dancer that's inside all of us was jumping up and down screaming and clapping.

"I could introduce you two," she prodded, leaning forward. "Your babies would be _so _cute."

Every time I began taking Lissa seriously, she had to go and say something like that.

"That's alright," I told her, trying to rein in my embarrassing excitement.

"No, really," she continued, ignoring me. Awkwardly, she placed her hand on mine. "Have you seen the show Wicked? Where Glinda becomes friends with that green freak just to be nice?" I nodded carefully, struggling to understand what she meant. "Well, I saw it last weekend, and it just totally inspired me. So, in the spirit of the good witch of the...?"

"East?" I suggested.

"East," she agreed. "I've decided to make you my new project." Like a cat who had just brought a bird inside for its owner, she beamed expectantly at me. I moved my jaw uselessly, not quite comprehending what she had just said.

"You... uh... Don't feel obligated, to do that, or, uh... anything," I finally managed.

"I really have to. I want to be nice," she declared.

"No, Lissa," I corrected her. "You _really _don't have to."

"I do, though!" she squealed, mistaking my chagrin for simple embarrassment. "It will be so much fun! We can have sleepovers after parties, and talk about boys, and all different kinds of things!" At that moment, my worst nightmare was confirmed: I was tutoring a girl with a balloon for a head.

"I'll just casually introduce you to Sam tomorrow, and it will all be perfect!"

"No," I contradicted her, forcing bile back down my throat. "That's really okay."

"Max," Lissa said sympathetically with an angelic smile. "I know we haven't always been friends." Massive understatement there. "But I want to make this right. And I went to church this weekend for the first time in like, forever, and at confession, the priest told me I had to help my inferiors, not pull them down. Besides, I'm already so much more popular than you that you're not even a threat."

"Lissa," I interrupted. "You've redeemed yourself. You've helped me just by apologizing... I'll, uh... pray for you, or something..." As if I ever prayed. "Just, don't feel like you have to do this."

Once, I would have told her straight out that I didn't like her. But I was kind of enjoying the perks of my new job, so I was forced to struggle through this conversation painfully.

"Max, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you didn't _want _me to help you," Lissa pointed out in a shocked tone.

"Where did you ever get that idea?" I mumbled, more to myself than her.

"What?"

"Nothing," I smiled sweetly.

"Great. Just be at your locker tomorrow after first period."

"Where else would I be?"

"I don't know, off getting high with your freaky stoner emo buddies?" she snapped impatiently. "Just be there." I gulped. There really was no way out of it.

"Great," I cheered to appease her, feeling myself go green with sickness.

"I know, right? I'm just so nice."

"So, so nice," I agreed.

This would be interesting.


	17. People Who Should Be Punching Bags

Remember a while ago when I told you about how awkward it was at lunch after Fang and I argued about Lissa? Well, multiply that by 8981387236 and you might get about half of how awkward it was when Lissa and Sam joined us one day. So, to recap: it was me, Fang, Iggy, Gazzy, Nudge, Angel, Lissa, and Sam all at the same table. How do you think that worked out?

Lissa, for the most part, ignored Fang, which really, is kind of despicable, seeing as they just made-out with each other. (Not that I'm bitter or anything.) In turn, everyone ignored her, which made for a happy medium. Sam kept making really stupid comments and laughing at his own jokes. Fang glared at Sam. Iggy glared at me for inviting Lissa and Sam even though I didn't really invite them. Gazzy was characteristically oblivious to the tension around him. Nudge was oddly quiet, but had this really p.o'd look on her face. Angel seemed to be assessing everyone's expressions for clues on how they were taking this new development. And I was the metaphorical bridge between everyone, and basically the only person that spoke.

"So..." I said awkwardly, looking for a chance to start a conversation. "How's everyone's day going?" Not my best, I know. At least I tried, though. Right?

"Sucky," Fang informed me bluntly.

"Weird because someone I know hates someone else totally turned on everything she stands for, which like, does _not _compute with me, and totally isn't cool," Nudge chimed in. I tried to smile apologetically at her, and failed spectacularly.

"My day's going pretty good, actually," Sam grinned, ignoring the obvious storm brewing beneath the surface of the conversation. One of the good things about him was that I knew he wasn't doing that kind of stuff to be obnoxious or invasive, but he was doing it because he really didn't know any better. And at least he was honest with everyone.

"Really, because I heard you failed your math test today," Fang challenged him. Could this get anymore awkward?

"Yeah, and that sucks," he agreed. "But I'm sitting next to the prettiest girl in school, so it kind of makes up for it." He nudged me sweetly with his elbow.

Um, okay. That wasn't a challenge, life. I didn't mean that the day _needed _to get more awkward.

"Don't you guys think Max and Sam would make just the _hottest _couple?" Lissa suggested not-so-subtly. "With just, the cah-_yoo_test babies?" Me being socially-awkward me, I blushed and took great interest in the weaving pattern on my shoelace. Sam, being one of the most popular guys in school, took this in stride.

"Ah, well, only if they looked like their mommy."

I had to do something about this. The proverbial pot was about to boil over. I couldn't just let Lissa and Sam accidentally-on-purpose ruin what little social life I had.

"Actually, I don't want to have kids," I announced. Everyone except Lissa, Sam and Fang seemed to find this amusing, and I thought I even saw the outline of an appreciative grin on Fang's face. I smiled inwardly, happy to see I had regained some of my friends' respect.

"Really, Max? You always seemed like you'd make a good mother. Responsible, and all." I narrowed my eyes at Sam.

"Seriously? Me?" I confirmed, more doubtful than excited. I was probably the poster child for bad mother material. I hated cleaning, couldn't cook, had a difficult time getting close to anyone, and was eternally laden with complicated baggage I didn't even try to unpack. Sure, I was always answerable for the littlest thing and took control easily, but that can also be said for a slave-driver.

"Yeah! My first memory of you is you always wanting to take attendance in second grade!" I couldn't help but burst into laughter. "What?" he demanded, sounding offended. I waved him off, trying to catch my breath before answering.

"Sam, that wasn't me," I explained. "That was Macy Perry." I suppose I should have been offended that he didn't really know who I was, but again, he only seemed like a bumbling idiot, rather than an asshole. Actually, it was kind of endearing.

"Oh, sorry," he murmured, turning red.

"Don't worry about it," I assured him.

Maybe this would work out after all.

* * *

><p>Then, just when I thought things might be looking up, my idiot father had to go and ruin it.<p>

For a while, things had gone on peacefully between us. You know, as peacefully as they could. We didn't speak except to tell each other what was needed at the grocery store, and little things like that. Then, suddenly, they stopped. I didn't know if he'd caught onto the fact that all of my threats were empty or had invested in some liquid courage, but he grew more self-confident again, and wasted no time in making sure I still knew my place.

"Maxy," he mumbled drunkenly, approaching me at the door. "Maxy, you sit down." I rolled my eyes, used to telling him off. An hour later he would be asleep in the pantry and I would have to drag him up to bed.

"Maybe later, Jeb," I muttered carelessly, not paying him much attention. It was then that I felt the slap.

It was the first time in a long time that he'd actually found the guts to hit me, so immediately after the fact I wondered if it was a figment of my imagination. Then, when I didn't react, he slapped me again.

"I _told _you to sit down," he growled. "You listen to your father!"

"What will the police think of this?" I wondered aloud, hoping to scare him off yet again. He laughed humorlessly.

"If you were gonna tell the police, you would've done it already." He smiled sardonically, like a child who finally understood their latest lesson in school. "You think I'm stupid, Max? Do you?"

He reached out, grasping a fistful of my hair with his pudgy fingers. They'd become bloated and red after years of drinking nothing but cheap beer, and were fatter than they would normally be. All the better to hurt me with, I guess. I bit back a scream as he tugged me along the floor, my feet following him of their own accord, anything to stop the pain and fear.

"I'm sitting, I'm sitting," I managed, pulling out a kitchen chair and easing myself down. "What is it?"

"You know whose in charge here, now, do ya? Eh?" he smirked, cracking open yet another beer and taking a long swig. "Know not to mess with me?"

"I'm sure if I didn't, you would teach me," I smiled falsely, shifting my weight on the chair. I felt it lean slightly to the left underneath me; the legs were uneven. True to form, Jeb was too cheap to buy a new one. Maybe he could afford it if he didn't waste so much money on alcohol? Just a thought.

"That's right, I would teach you, you little ho," Jeb agreed, slapping me again for good measure. I bit back the reactionary tears that formed in my eyes at the impact. Experience had taught me that the hits didn't actually hurt enough to cry. It was the shock that did you in. If you trained yourself to expect it, then you were really fine. I was just out of practice, that was all.

"What do you want, Jeb?" I sighed weakly, too tired to put up much of a real fight. He seemed thrown off by my sudden cooperation, and fumbled for an appropriate response.

"I, uh... Hey, where you been all these afternoons? Don't tell me at a friend's house or shit because nobody can stand you long enough for that, slut." I winced. "Why do you think your mother left?"

I chose to ignore the last barb, out of fear that whatever I would respond to this with would only increase his anger. It would have to join a whole collection of insults he'd thrown at me to no avail, where they spent their days eating away at me from the inside. My best bet was to remain annoyingly calm. Like any schoolyard bully, all Jeb wanted was a real reaction. When he didn't get it, he would quickly grow bored and lose interest. At least, I hoped he would.

"I've been working."

"As what, a hooker?" he spat, laughing at his own joke. "Only job _you're _smart enough to get. I was a real scientist, you know that? Real successful, too. Until I dropped everything to raise the little bag of shit that became you!"

"It's not my fault you knocked up Mom," I snarled furiously. "Maybe you should have taught yourself to keep it in your pants!" He bared his teeth.

"Your mom _begged _me to fuck her. Everyone wanted a piece of me back then and your mother... She was real slut. Just. Like. You."

"I hate you," I said lowly before I could stop myself. Jeb's eyes widened in surprise, although I don't know how this could possibly come as a shock. Beating someone isn't exactly the best way to their heart.

"I hate you too," he smirked, coming towards me. "So I guess we make the perfect pair, Miss Maxy."

I'd rather not relive the hours of pain that followed.

**A/N: It's getting kinda heavy again, but don't worry, it will lighten up next chapter. Just building the drama. I mean, come on, how long do you think Max is gonna stand for this? (Yay for badass Max!) Plus, a ton of it is my English teacher making me read Night, aka the saddest book on Earth. :( Anyway, what do you think?**


	18. Irony At Its Best

So if you're smart, you've probably guessed how I'm all abused and how that all leads to bruises and scars and cuts which generally don't look super normal when exposed because _who really falls down three flights of stairs everyday_. This meant that I had to find a liable way to cover all of that nasty stuff up, a task made much more difficult with my school uniform. My leggings and blazer were so worn in that I could see the fabric slowly separating.

Therefore, on the weekends, I usually preferred to where normal clothes-pants, shirts, etc. Like, as in, not bikinis. Nudge, however, was none the wiser to my special circumstances and so expected me to be attending her annual pool party. Apparently, it was some big thing in her grade and to be invited was an honor? Whatever, all I needed to know was that I wasn't going.

"But _whyyyyy?" _Nudge whined when I told her I was passing. "What could possibly have going on that's more important?"

To tell the truth, I was surprised she even cared that much if I came or not, seeing as I hadn't been on the best terms with my friends since Lissa and Sam decided to become my buddies. Some minute part of me was touched, I suppose, at the gesture and wanted to do something to indicate that I cared, but the more reasonable, responsible part of me that wanted to maintain some semblance of a normal life won out in the end, so I was forced to lie my way out of it.

"Um, I'm... er, visiting my grandmother," I told her. Iggy raised an eyebrow.

"Haven't both your grandmothers been dead for like, ten years?" he wondered aloud. I blushed.

"Well, er... It's an... an adoptive grandmother," I lied creatively, nodding to emphasize my point. "I didn't tell you that I started volunteering at, um... the places where the, uh, places where the old, sick, dying and lonely live?"

"Nursing homes?" Gazzy suggested in disbelief.

"Yeah, er, right... Nursing homes."

I'm usually better at this whole lying thing, I swear.

"What's going on with you?" Angel demanded, sounding authoritative despite being a total of three years younger than me.

"Nothing!" I beamed in an obviously fake voice. "I've just... seen the light, and... I've... uh... I've discovered my passion for helping other people! Do you have any idea how many of them get _no visitors?_" I gasped in a pitiful attempt to change the subject.

"Cut the crap, Max," she demanded. "What aren't you telling us?" I swear, that girl was born to be a detective. Or a prosecution lawyer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mumbled, my hands becoming so sweaty that I expected my fork to slip to the ground. Desperately, I checked the cafeteria clock. I still had five minutes left of interrogations about my absence at the party. It doesn't sound like much, but a lot can happen in a small amount of time. Anything, really.

"Do- Are you- Does this have something to do with Lissa?" Nudge sputtered, seemingly shocked by the idea. This didn't stop her from becoming outraged and consequently going criminally insane.

"Well, have fun with that ginger, soulless slut, who, by the way, _totally _died her hair, because that color is just like, _not_ natural and now that Rihanna doesn't even have like, that kind of red hair, no one actually thinks it's cool so you won't be on the top for long and..." Suddenly, she seemed to become overcome with emotion, and began fervently fanning herself. "And I was just _totally _there for you forever and always if you knew it or not so I really hope you know what you're doing here and..." She wiped an eye delicately before assessing her finger. "Oh! You're making me ruin my mascara! Only for you, Max. Only for you."

In a strange way, I actually was affected by this mini-speech to the point of feeling guilty. Not for ruining her mascara, of course, because that was useless junk that girls were forced to use because guys were too sexist to recognize them for inner beauty. More because she was actually, truly, crying. My situation being what it was, I hadn't allowed myself to cry in years. I rarely even tolerated others sniveling and moaning about anything. Nudge was just so close to me, I guess. I knew her, and she didn't deserve to have all my pain pushed on her. It was then that I began to comprehend how the things I thought were only harmful to me affected everyone around me. Eternally having my own best interest at heart, though, I didn't tell her the truth. I instead tried to turn the situation around as best I could.

"I'm not friends with Lissa!" I insisted, making eye contact with everyone at the table to make sure they knew I was telling the truth. "I just tutor her sometimes, and she got this idea in her head that I was her... like, project, or something... I don't know! I don't attempt to understand what goes on in her twisted pea brain, I just... Fang knows! He knows I'm telling the truth, just ask him!" I looked eagerly for the idiot I had hoped would back me up on this, but of course he chose this to be the one time he actually had to go to the bathroom. I mentally cursed his effed up digestive system.

"Iggy!" I pleaded. "You've known me since we were two, help me on this! You know how much I hate Lissa!" He looked uncertainly from me to Nudge and Angel.

"I-I know, Max... But, I don't know, it just seems kind of weird..." I huffed angrily.

"You know what! Look, I'll come to the party after the swimming is over! By then I should be done with my... uh, community service..." Angel shrugged.

"There is no party after the swimming, right Nudge?" Nudge nodded emphatically. "You're just trying to get out of this looking like you did nothing wrong."

God, how did I ever like this little bitch?

"Angel, do you have anything to do with my friendship with Nudge?" I hissed through gritted teeth. She looked dumbly at the ground. "Exactly. So why don't you let us work this out?" I turned to Nudge. "Look, I _honestly _can't go to the party. It has nothing to do with Lissa, though, I swear." She looked doubtful. "Trust me?" I begged.

"It just all fits together too perfectly," she sighed, leaning into the palm of her hand.

This could _not _be happening. My best friend's innocent little sister was planting little seeds of distrust in my all of my friends' minds. My douchey father was putting the 'beat' in 'dead-beat.' The only witnesses to the one deal I made with Lissa were a) unwelcome for obvious reasons, seeing as she caused the fight, and b) obviously constipated, because he was taking too goddamn long in the bathroom. I was never one for the dramatics of teenage girls, but it seemed clear that my world was crumbling, brick by brick. Soon, there wouldn't even be Ancient Rome-esque ruins left. Just a huge plot of land and my social life's gravestone. 'MAXIMUM RIDE: THE LIAR.' Ah, can't you just see it in the distance?

"Are-Are you being serious about this?" I choked out. "You really believe all of it?" They all looked to Angel. God knows why they put her in charge of this whole mission. Did I miss the election for queen? Because I don't remember voting for the freshman who still giggles every time someone says the word 'sex.'

"You've given us no reason not to," she shrugged in that snotty little way where she wasn't even pretending to be sorry about it. I glared at her. Did she miss the past three minutes of me explaining why I could not go?

"Well..." I struggled to find a classier way to say 'fuck you.' "Fine," I finally settled on, gathering my tray. "Fine." I strutted away from the table, hoping to maintain a shred of dignity by looking like I didn't care at all about what had just transpired. A violently crimson haze of fury clouded my vision. I wasn't even sure what I was angry _at. _Jeb, Lissa, Angel and her ironic little name. This fiery aura distracted me so much that I walked into a wall.

A pea-sized brained wall that was, nonetheless, a very nice wall. I am talking, of course, about dear old Sam.

Truthfully, I considered just mowing him down and blaming it on hormones. I wasn't in the mood for human interaction and my judgement wasn't the clearest at that point. Before I could go ahead and do this, however, he opened his mouth.

"Max, I was looking for you!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Oh... You found me... Yay..." I cheered feebly. He probably didn't read body language that well, because I had my arms crossed, feet together, and was looking at the ground, but he still kept talking.

"I was wondering if you wanted to, um... maybe, kind of go out with me on Friday?" I nodded, preoccupied. Anything to make him go away.

"Sure, sure, whatever... Just text me or something, okay? I've, uh... gotta go."

"Oh, yeah, definitely," he agreed complacently. "I'll, uh, see you later then, okay?" He smiled and I realized how very much he looked like a California surfer dude. He talked like one, too.

"Hey Sam," I began, scrutinizing him awkwardly. Now that my life had gone to hell, I might as well say what I wanted to say.

"Yeah?"

"Are you from California?" A huge grin spread across his face.

"Yeah, actually, I am," he beamed.

"That explains _so _much," I breathed. He was still trying to figure out what I meant by that when I walked away.

**A/N: A little bit lighter... Well, still kind of sad, but not like, hardcore depressing. Thoughts?**


	19. A Dog That Looks Like A Rat Eats Me Up

**A/N: Hey! Happy New Year's Eve! I might update again later today, because my parents are ditching me tonight, my friends are losers who all went on vacation, and my sister's both don't live at home, so I'm being a loner today. You know what might l****ift my spirits a little bit, though? Three more reviews. You know why? Because then we'll have reached 100 reviews. **

**(Which, by the way, is like a record for me. You all ROCK.) **

**I don't own MR (haha, my first disclaimer in a long time...). Now, on to the story...**

You're not going to believe what I'm about to say. But I assure you, I'm telling the truth.

I became one of _them. _

Them. You know, the ones everyone hates and idolizes at the same time? The ones who always take up two tables at lunch because they're too damn popular to squeeze into one? The ones who have a live-in cook? The ones who gossip and back-stab and bitch? That was me. Maximum Ride.

It wasn't by choice, mind you. None of it was. At first, I would just wander over to their table at lunch because my real friends all hated me. As Sam's girlfriend, I automatically had the right to a seat. Then, as my relationship with Jeb spiraled downwards and he remembered how good it felt to force himself on me, I agreed to go to several parties, if only to get out of the house as much as possible. Again, being taken was a bonus. Lissa and her cronies didn't force me to wear makeup or look 'pretty' for anyone. Apparently, me at my worst was good enough.

Let me tell you, though, I hated every minute of the keggers I made myself go to. Every time someone brushed past me (which was often), I let out a girlish little scream. Every time someone walked towards me, I flinched. Every time someone touched me, I braced myself for pain. My remarks on how stupid everything in the world was, while still witty and amusing, grew less creative. (It doesn't mean a lot to some people, but sarcasm is my personality. So, basically, I was losing my personality.)

You're probably wondering about the Sam in all of this. Or, maybe you hate him and don't want to hear me talk about him. But either way, I would really recommend you take what I'm saying here seriously: he wasn't a bad guy.

He was a bumbling goofball with little emotional depth, which was sometimes kind of annoying. But he was also kind enough not to check out other girls when I was with him, and not to pressure me into anything I didn't want to do, which was good, because my tolerance of physical interaction had seriously dropped since Jeb got bad again. In fact, it got to the point where you couldn't even really call us a couple, just two people who occasionally held hands.

Lissa was harder for me to control than Sam. Since I had no other friends to be busy with, she had kept her promise of making me popular, despite my various protests. To do so, she said, I had to go the distance with a popular guy, if you catch my drift. The mere thought of it made me queasy.

You see, when Jeb was abusing me earlier, it was all drunken hits that sometimes missed, occasionally they would mold into hideously bruises. It was never enough to really affect me socially; even after what happened on the day I met Fang, I found myself able to engage in normal conversation. I had friends then, a support system, and I could find a way to make him stop. It was all different now, and the pain was worse. I didn't know if Jeb had taken karate or kickboxing or something while I had him thinking I was going to call the police. Whatever happened, he was now strong enough to punch the fight out of me. (God, that sounded cheesy. See? He also punched out my creativity.)

There were a plethora of weapons that hadn't been used on me before that he now felt all too comfortable with. His hands and feet, obviously. Occasionally knives, when I did something really wrong. And once, he got out a gun. Not to shoot me with, or anything. He was either too much of a coward to kill me, or smart enough to know that he wouldn't escape the law if he did me in. He just wanted to make sure I understood the power he held.

"I know how to use it," he barked gruffly, fingering the shiny black trigger. It was a brand new little handgun, and I couldn't help but be curious as to where he got it. I imagined the black market, because no one in their right mind would give Jeb Batchelder a gun license.

"I-I'm sure you do," I forced myself to say. It was a goal of mine to stand firm until the end of it all, however soon that may be. (When you're in a house like mine, you can't really know for sure.)

"Mm-hmm," he growled threateningly. "Don't test me, bitch."

"Can I quiz you?" I quipped, momentarily forgetting the situation.

That was the moment all hell broke loose. I mean that in the most literal way possible, too. I could legitimately see gates of fire opening in his eyes, the mobs of furious demons marching forth. His mouth tore itself open, howling wolfishly. Luckily, the gun clattered to the floor, going unnoticed in his blind rage. I flattened myself against the wall, sneaking out of his line of sight. When I leaned against the door, it fell open soundlessly, like a booby trap in a Scooby Doo movie. The second I felt the breath of the wind, I ran.

Later, when I was forced to return home by pounding rain, the earlier event went ignored. Jeb was passed out on the couch, and the gun had somehow made its way back into the closet. Just in case, I wrapped it up in scares and hid it under my bed. I never saw it again.

That didn't mean everything was all better. I was still his personal punching bag and the house always smelled like pot. But I began to withdraw myself from the horrible life I lead at home and create another existence, as close to the one I had had with Nudge, Iggy, Gazzy, Angel and Fang as possible. That meant hanging out with other people in public, exercising my voice box more frequently, etc..

"Seriously? You mean it?" gasped Lissa when I agreed to go to a party with her. I nodded tiredly. "Omigod. This is just what I wanted! Now, you have to look _hot _first."

"Actually, I'll just wear... uh, this, I guess." Lissa obviously didn't agree, as I was immediately decked out in everything remotely sparkly that she owned. (Which, I promise you, is a lot more sparkly stuff than anyone should own.) At my insistence, it was cut down to a flashy pair of black sequined shorts, a heather gray button down, and a navy blue sweater with sky-colored polka dots. Truthfully, it looked really good. Or, as Lissa so eloquently put it 'hotter than the 4th of July on the sun.'

Things continued like so for a while, until a very special party was thrown. Special because it was actually at Lissa's house. I was bestowed with the 'honor' of helping her set up, along with a bunch of other girls whose IQs were smaller than mine if you added them together. (Arrogant? Me? Never!) The one girl I found slightly intelligent was JJ, who talked almost as much Nudge but was almost as sarcastic as me. After we apparently 'ruined' the decorations Lissa had so carefully put up, we were confined to the kitchen, where we binged on appetizers and trash talked almost everyone invited.

I had been forced into velvet, loose skinny pants of a purpley-blue hue, which were kept up with a skinny coral belt that was buckled with a tan bow; a black, baggy tank with uncoordinated, messy white splotches on it; and, much to my dismay, a pair of chunky coral heels. Surprisingly, the seemingly random pieces of clothing worked well together, or at least well enough to be approved by Lissa. My neck held a long silver chain with a circular charm on it that read 'M' for Max. JJ, who was so skinny that the tightest of clothes seemed big on her, wore a loose, black, high-waisted dress with texture running down the fabric, a large amber ring, and a golden bib necklace.

"This thing weighs more than me," she whined, tugging at the chain around her neck. "I want to take it off."

"Then take it off," I shrugged, fingering my own necklace, which was luckily extremely light.

"Says the girl who is a self-proclaimed hater of heels and anything remotely fashionable and yet wearing things from Madewell's latest line." Touche.

"Hey, I'm still a girl. I appreciate a good shoe now and then."

"Sure you do," she said doubtfully, speaking as one would to a crazy person. Like the mature, not-crazy girl I am, I threw a pig in a blanket at her. She tossed it back in response. "Just stating the facts, Max." I leaned back against Lissa's perfectly white granite counter.

"So who's actually coming to this thing?"

"Everyone, I guess," JJ mused. "One of those guys you used to hang out with was invited, too-Fang, was it? Apparently Lissa still has a thing for him." My heart literally stopped.

"Fang? Lissa likes him?"

She had seemed so dismissive of him at lunch that day... And I'd never heard her say a word about him. It seemed impossible that all of this could just happen to escape my notice. Maybe Lissa had caught on to my game before I even knew what I was doing: all this time, she was just making me feel safe before she pounced and went in for the kill. Not that it would kill me if she was with Fang. Especially now that we all hated each other. It didn't matter to me. Not at all.

"Yeah. Said she's been playing 'hard to get' or whatever, but he hasn't come around. Tonight she's going to make an actual move on him, from what I hear." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively for effect. "You know, play the seductress for a night." I laughed along with JJ hollowly, while my mind ran around in circles non-stop. "You okay? You seem kind of... surprised by this." I glanced up, shaking my head slightly. This was JJ, not Lissa. I might as well tell her the truth.

"Well, I guess I just never thought that they'd really make a good couple." Understatement of the century. "I mean, Lissa's kind of much for him, don't'cha think?" JJ giggled.

"I know what you mean. The heart wants what the heart wants, though, right?" I rolled my eyes.

"At least, Lissa's heart wants what it wants. I know for a fact Fang thinks she's a slut," I guffawed. Or maybe not for a total fact. But he didn't like her enough to pursue her and warned me not to talk to her, so close enough.

"Probably not too far off the mark," JJ snickered.

"What are you girls talking about?" Lissa's overly cheery voice came. Her awful acting told me in a second that she'd heard every word we said. I blanched, exchanging a glance with JJ, who did not seem to be in the practice of lying. Her face was the color of Elmer's glue.

"Just how good the food was," I said calmly, looking her straight in the eye. Might have gotten away with it, too, if JJ hadn't chosen the exact same moment to explain how we were discussing some non-existent soap opera. Lissa's lip curled, but she composed herself immediately.

"Glad you like it, Max. I'll have to look up that show, though, JJ. What was it called again."

"Whores in the Hood," I informed her with a completely straight face. JJ snorted, trying to contain her laughter.

"Never heard of it," Lissa sneered. I mentally took a moment of silence for the frizzy muppet she skinned to make her jacket. "Anyways, I'd better go finish setting up. I have a feeling this is going to be a _really _fun party," she chirped, a malicious gleam in her eyes. I grinned back at her, hiding the mental spiral of doom I was travelling on. In about an hour, I was sure to be dead meat. Maybe Lissa would feed me to her wimpy little rat-dog. Barney, was that it's name? Right, after the clothing store in the city...

Yeah, sure, this would be a fun party.

(Again: sarcasm.)

**A/N: DUN. DUN. DUNNNN. What do you think is going to happen? Before you answer that, though, let's all take a moment of silence for the frizzy muppet used to make Lissa's coat.**

**Okay, silence over! Now, go review! Oh yeah, and HAPPY 2012!**


	20. Annie Oakley Can't Hold Her Liquor

**A/N: WE'VE REACHED 100 REVIEWS! AWW YEAH! KEEP IT UP PLEASE! Seriously, though, you guys are awesome :) I really, really, really like this chapter. It makes me very happy and fuzzy inside. Warning: Major drunkenness and Fax ahead. **

**So I've been told that these disclaimer things are politically correct, and they're pretty easy, so... I don't own Maximum Ride.**

You know when you walk up to a bunny or some small, furry creature, and they kind of freak out and run away because they sense danger, or know that should it come to a physical confrontation, you would win... Whatever, I don't pretend to understand nature. The bottom line is the bunny runs away when it sees a predator. I worked the same way. Kind of.

"Wanna go get drinks?" Sam asked me that night at the party. I did a quick once over of the room, looking for Lissa. When I spotted her beside the kegger and 'punch' bowl that was inevitably spikekd, I giggled nervously.

"Uh, you can," I offered, ducking behind him. Upon spotting Lissa strutting over to us, I swore silently. "Or, you know what, maybe I'll come too!"

"...Okay...?"

I pushed him along in front of me, keeping my face towards the target: the drink table. Maybe she was like Medusa, and if I didn't make eye contact, I'd be fine. Or maybe there was a reason those Greeks weren't around anymore.

"Max!" she cooed, pushing through the crowd to reach us. "I have been looking for you _everywhere." _

"I'm sure you have," I muttered under my breath. Not quiet enough, however. Lissa cackled in response, throwing her head back. Sometimes I wished I was as silent as Fang. Sigh. But then I'd have to be emo.

"You are too funny!" She turned to Sam. "Doesn't Max look_ so _good tonight? Those pants were like, made for her."

"I guess," he mumbled, obviously as confused as I was. Lissa had her queen bitch smirk on, though, so I knew it couldn't be good.

"Well, I am just so glad I helped you two find each other. You are literally, like, perfect together. It just makes me feel so good to know how much I've helped both of you. I mean, think about it, without me, you two would be living in your miserable little worlds with no one to love." So, she was... guilting me into feeling bad? "Before you even thank me... You're welcome." **(A/N: Does anyone watch Awkward on MTV? Sadie Saxton?)**

I shrugged her hand off of my shoulder as she lead us across the room. Under other circumstances, I would have just split then and there. Now, though, I felt obligated to make sure she didn't castrate Sam or do something drastic like that. You see, I really was prepared for anything. (Cue cheesy fake smile at an invisible camera like in one of those low-budget, really annoying infomercials.)

"Look at what Bill brought!" she squealed, gesturing in front of us to a large table filled with two triangles of red solo cups. My stomach dropped. Beer pong. She was going to get me drunk, and then torture me with it for the rest of my life. "Max, you have such great aim... You should play!" Yup, I was right. I even saw the light in front of me.

"Actually, I'm on... Uh, medication," I lied. Bill raised an eyebrow at me from across the table.

"You worried I'm gonna beat you?"

Oh. No_._ He. Didn't.

Sure, I had a sense of self-preservation and stuff, but anyone who has known me for more than a second knows that I'm possibly the most competitive person in the world. In the universe, really. You challenge me to something, I take it. I couldn't let that reputation be ruined tonight. Biting my lip, I assessed Bill. His clothes were wrinkled and lipstick the same shade of Lissa's was smeared across his cheek. So she had put him up to this. Of course, who else would have? Whatever. He looked drunk enough, and intoxication tends to make people's aim faulty. I, on the other hand, was one hundred percent sober and had the aim of Annie Oakley. (Seriously. I did one of those genealogy reports online. We might be related.)

"Actually, I'm worried you'll go crying to your mommy when I crush you and she'll smell all that beer on your breath." I smirked. "Give me a ball."

* * *

><p>I was right. Well, half-right. I made Bill drink every single one of his cups. Trouble was, his aim seemed to get better and better with every sip he took. I only had two left, but it was already fair to say that I was more than tipsy.<p>

"You... hic! Are going... Down," I mumbled, fighting to keep my index finger steady as I pointed menacingly at him. By now, we had garnered quite a bit of attention, and a large crowd of people _oohed _at the threat. I clapped sluggishly, plucking another ping-pong ball from the bucket beside me.

"Babe, maybe you should, uh, quit while you're ahead," Sam warned me worriedly from above. It's a testament to my non-sobriety that I let him get away with calling me 'babe.' I was a young woman, thank you very much. I forced my impossibly heavy head up to look at him.

"Don't worry, Sam. I got this. I got this!" I repeated more loudly to the room, wildly swinging my fists in the air. Their cheers roared in my ears. I leaned forward, envisioning where to aim my ball. After vaguely realizing there was no way I could reach the cup from that far away in my current state, I stood up, popping the ball in another of his cups. "There, see?" I grinned. "I got this. He's a _looooserrrr."_

Surprisingly, Bill didn't seem bothered by the notion of drinking more alcohol when I had so obviously cheated. He smiled provokingly at me as he brought the cup to his lips. In one swift swig, he downed it all. I wagged my finger accusingly at him.

"Are you _surrreee _you drank it _alllll?" _

"Every last drop," he reassured me, still as sober as ever. He turned the cup around for me to see. It was empty, save for a dribble of amber liquid running down the side. I nodded firmly, gesturing for him to go. Surprise, surprise. He hit one of my cups easily.

I reached forward eagerly, by now so intoxicated that I didn't care how much more liquor I consumed. The sweet beer was equal to the food of the gods at that moment. Like Bill, I was able to empty the cup quickly, getting back to the game as soon as possible. The determination to win clouded my judgement, and I gathered five balls in my hand, throwing them all in the general direction of my opponent, blindly hoping that one would plop into his remaining drink. They didn't. Of course, he beat me. I wailed hysterically.

"Maybe you should have listened to your boyfriend," Bill goaded me smugly. I furrowed my brow.

"Boyfriend?" I asked.

"Sam," he reminded me. I nodded exaggeratedly.

_"Oooohhhhh... _Yeah, I guess he is my boyfriend," I slurred. "Why is he my boyfriend? I don't want him to be my boyfriend. I mean, he is _niiiiceeee _to me and stuff, but he's also kind of stupid. Actually so are most of the people at this party." I turned towards the shocked crowd and began pointing people out. "You're stupid, you're stupid, everybody here's stupid!" Pausing, I considered this declaration. _"Noo, _that's not true. _Fang's _not stupid..." I corrected myself. "Did Fang end up coming? Where's Fang? Is he with Lissa? I really hope he's not with Lissa. Because you know what?" I giggled shyly, then held my forefinger and thumb about a centimeter apart. "I may be a _wittle, teensy _bit jealous," I admitted to the crowd. "But Fang's just my _frienddddd, _even if he is _kind of _hot. I can still be jealous, though, can't I? Besides, Lissa's a real_ bitch._ You know that? Do you know that she's a real bitch?" I interrogated a random party-goer. She shrugged awkwardly at me and scurried away. "Wait, why are you leaving?" I called. "I thought we were talking!"

I slumped over the back of my chair, waving after the girl.

"Okayyyy! _Byyyyeeeee!" _I called. "Oh, is that a camera phone?" I asked a boy who had pulled out his iPhone 4 during my little speech. "Take a video of me!" Like he wasn't already doing exactly that. I straightened as much as my drunken stupor would allow, preparing for my stint on screen. _"Hiiiii!" _I sang. "Oh, my, _God, _I sound like Nudge. She thinks I'm a bitch._ I'm not_ a bitch. _Lissa's_ the bitch. Did I tell you that Lissa's a bitch already? I think I did. Didn't I? Well, she is one. So is _Angelllll... _Do you know her? She's a freshman. She turned _alllll _of my friends against me... Oh! Why am I floating?" I screeched when I was scooped up by a pair of strong, tanned arms.

"Up you go," murmured a deep voice. I felt myself being thrown over someone-presumably a male's-shoulder. "Alright, nothing to see here!" my carrier called, effectively dispersing the crowd as he lugged me outside.

"Nooo," I whined. "I wanna _stay... _We're having _fuuuunn... _I'm playing with _Billlll!_ Bill's _niiiiceeee!_"

"Jesus, Max, you're wasted," Mystery Boy told me.

"No I'm _nottt!" _I denied. "Hey, do I know you? Because if I don't, then... _Straaaanger dangerrrr! _So you should really put me down if I don't know you."

"No can do."

"Yes can do! I want to go back to the _paaarty... _Put me _dooowwwn! _Put me _doooowwwnnnn... _Who are you?" I breathed brokenly, weakly beating their back with balled-up fists. "I said, 'Who are you?' Answer me, dammit!"

"Language, Max!" he snapped. "Isn't that your little rule, or whatever?"

"Don't yell at _meeee _about language and manners and stuff when _you _haven't even _introduced _yourself!"

"You seriously don't know who I am?" He froze.

"Nope," I promised, popping the 'p.'

"Here's a hint: I'm not stupid, and I'm also kind of hot, even if I _am_ just your friend, so you're allowed to be jealous of me and that bitch Lissa." Did I catch a hint of amusement in his voice?

"Oh!" I exclaimed, clapping a hand to my forehead. "It's _Fang! _Fang, Fang, Fang, _Faaang!" _I giggled uncontrollably as he lowered me into a car.

"What?" he demanded gruffly as he buckled me into the back seat. I gave a poor try at stifling my laughter.

"Hi, Fang!" I whispered. "Wait, don't you hate me? Nudge and Iggy and Angel and Gazzy hate me. Why do they hate me again?" I wondered aloud.

"It's gonna be a long night," I heard him mutter from the front seat.

He had no _idea. _

**A/N: Hehe. What do you think of that? Isn't Drunk Max fun? Why isn't Bill getting drunk too? And where was Sam when Max did-but-didn't break up with him in front of an entire party? Reviewwwwww!**


	21. Secrets, Secrets Are So Fun

**A/N: Because I enjoy writing drunk Max... Here's another chapter.**

_"Faaanggg,"_ I sighed from the back of his bulky black SUV. "Why do we have to leave the _partaaaayyyyy?"_

"Because you just shamed your entire family and will probably be going viral in a few hours," he informed me bluntly, drumming his fingers against the wheel.

"Oh," I giggled. "But that's good... If I'm viral, I'll be famous, right? And then I'll be in _mooovies _and super riiiiccchhhhh, and I can be like, 'Jeb..." I moved my hands around wildly, trying to build the effect. "'Jeb, eff you!'" I declared triumphantly. After a pause, I spoke again. "Fang?"

"Yes?" He sounded irritated, like I was a bothersome mosquito by his ear and he wanted nothing more than to smack me.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" He paused, and I could see the gears turning in his head. In fact, I was surprised there was no smoke streaming out of his ears.

"You're gorgeous, Max," he murmured.

"Then... Why did you kiss Lissa? She's a bitch. God, I hate her. I feel like I already said she's a bitch. Did I? Well, even if I did. Lissa's a bitch."

"That she is," Fang agreed, seemingly relieved at having found a way out of answering my question. I, however, didn't let him off so easy.

Snickering to myself, I hoisted myself into an upright position, leaning forward to rest my head on Fang's seat.

"Youuuu didn't answer my _questionnn," _I sang, nudging him with my fist. "Why did you kiss bitchy Lissa if you think I'm _sooo gorgeousssss?" _He struggled for a moment under my surprisingly steady gaze.

"Max... Dammit, Max, I kissed Lissa, and you kissed Sam, just... Just get over it already, okay?" I leaned back into my own seat, considering this.

"What if I don't want to?"

"What?"

"I _saiidddd, _'What if I don't want to?'" He spared a quick glance over his shoulder to check if I was serious. He came nose-to-nose with my smirking face.

"You're... You're just gonna have to," he commanded. I crossed my arms stubbornly.

"Boo you. You're _noooo _funnnn. _I'm _fun. I think you'd be _moreeeee _fun if you just realized that... I _loooovveee _you more than I'll _everrrrrr _love Sam or you'll _evverrrrrrr _love _Lisssssaaaa!"_ In true Fang fashion, he ignored this and remained silent for a while more.

"Shit," I groaned loudly. "Shit! Wait, _Fanggyyy?"_

"What is it, Max?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Did you hear _everything _I said?"

"Unfortunately, yes." I bit my lip, studying him.

"Oh. So you know I think you're _hootttt?"_

"The cat's out of the bag," he confirmed.

_"Oooh, nooooo!" _I exclaimed suddenly, putting both my hands on my cheeks like a toddler. "I didn't break up with Sam! Poor Sam. Am I cheating on Sam if I think you're hot? Where is Sam? Poor Sam. He's so stupid. I don't want to date him. I should break up with him." Decidedly, I searched my pockets for my phone. When I didn't find it, I wasted no time looking for a solution.

_"Fanggg, _if you really think that I'm _gorgeousss, _will you give me your phone?"

"No."

_"Pleaseee? _I need to break up with Sam! Because _thennnn _I can think whoever I want is hot when they're hot because Sam isn't my boyfriend so I don't have to think he's hot even if he is, just a little bit! Not as hot as _youuu, _Fangy. Does that make sense? I hope that makes sense. You know what? I think I might be a little, teensy, tinsy drunk right now."

"No, really?" he said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know. Who would have guessed?" I agreed, mistaking him for earnest. I continued running my hands over my pockets, still searching for my phone. "Oh! Here, I found my phone!" I held it up so Fang could see, and got to work.

"Sam," I read aloud as I typed. "I am very sorry-well, not really because he's sooo _stupid, _and it's like, 'Dude, go back to _kindergartennnn!'-_I am very sorry to do this, because..." I searched for the keys on my phone. "How do you spell 'because?' Wait, there's a song about that. B-E-C-A-U-S-E, BECAUSE, BECAUSE, B-E-C-A-U-S-E, I CAN SPELL BECAUSE!" I put a hand to my head, groaning. "Ugh, _sooo _many _letterrrssss. _'Bc' will work for _hic! _These purposes... Because you are very nice, but Fang is _verryy _nice, has a brain, and is _HOTTER... _than you." I stuck my tongue out. _"Looveee, _Max... Or, I guess, not so _looveee, _because I'm breaking up with him, right? Oh! I didn't tell him I'm breaking up with him... P... S... I think... That... We... Should... See... Other people. Done! Why does 'should' have a 'l' in it? Oh well! Se-" Just as I was going to press the send button, Fang snatched the device away from me.

"Maximum, I swear to God, if you send this text, you will regret it in the morning," he hissed.

"Ha, ha._.. _That's _soooo _considerate of yoouuuuuuu!" I groped the air for my phone. "But I don't think I will." Fang sighed, grumbling curse words to himself just as we reached my house. My heart raced in fear.

_"Noooo!" _I begged. _"Fanggggg..._Please don't make me go _insideeee!" _He rolled his eyes.

"Jesus, Max. I can't just drive around with you all night. Your dad will be pissed, but he'll get over it in the morning. So just go inside and deal with it," he commanded.

"No," I pouted. "I won't _goooo!" _Fang, being a great deal stronger than me, ignored this and picked me up once again.

"Come... On," he grunted.

"You're so _meeeannnnn," _I complained. "At least you're not as mean as Jeb. I call my dad Jeb. Did I tell you that? And you're nicer than _hiiimmm. _Because you _almooostttt _hit me. Remember, on my _biirthdaaaay? _With your _carrrrrr? _Jeb doesn't _almost _hit me. He hits me _sooooo _harddddddd... It _reallllyyyyy _hurtttssss, too." Fang tightened his grip on me. "Ouchie! That _huuuurtssss. _I'm all damaged and stuff, remember? I have _bruuuisesssss, _silly." I rolled up my shirt, exposing an entire stomach of black and blue skin. I pointed at it. _"Seeeeee?" _Pausing, I looked up at him to confirm that he, indeed, saw the bruises.

_"Faaanggg! _Why aren't you moving?" I giggled in a whiny tone. "You can just put me on the couch inside. I _haaaatteee __nightssss _here. It's soooo _scarrryyyyyy... _You know what he did on my birthday this year? When you almost _ran me overrrr?" _Fang's head moved back and forth almost imperceptibly, and I noticed that my skin was almost turning blue from how tightly he was holding me. "He did it _againnn _a few other times, too... He got _soooo _badddd when you guys started hating me... _That's _why I go to all the parties, _Faaangg! _I don't wanna be _heeree. _I can't _tellllll _you what he did... He has a _gunnnn, _you knowwww._.. _He _hatttessss _me, and that's a direct _hic! _Quote from him. He wants to _kiilllll _me. He'll _probablyyyy _kill _you _if he sees you... But I don't _waanntttt _you dead. Maybe... Maybe you should leave, _Fang... _I hear dying's _noooo _fun. But _you're_ no fun either, _remember?_ I hope... I hope he doesn't do that..." I snapped my fingers obnoxiously, conjuring up words in my head. "That _thinggg _again... That I can't tell you about? It hurts _soooo goddammmnnn _much, Fang. It hurts more than _allll _the _hits _and _knivessss __combiiiinedddd! _That means a _lot, _you know. You _wouldn't _know though... Your family is _sooo _nice. You're _sooo _lucky. I wish I were you."

"Max. What. The fuck. Does that. Mean." I stretched comfortably in his arms.

"You're silly. Why are you still here? _Rememberrr? _I _tooollddd _you. Jeb won't wanna find _you _hereeee... He'll _killlll _you if he knows that _yooou _know... Did that make sense?" I sighed sadly.

_"Godddd, Faannngggg... _Sometimes... Sometimes I _hoooooppeee _he kills me _soooner _rather than _laaaattterrrr, _you know? So, so much less _paiinnn _like that." I then proceeded to giggle as if this was the most hilarious thing I'd ever heard. "Fang? _Faaaanggg? _Why are we walking _back _to _youurrrr _carrrr? I don't live in _your _carrrr! Remember? I live in... _Theeeeeerrrrre!"_ I flailed my arm towards the house. "Fang?"

Once again, he loaded me into his back seat, back stiff a board. He seemed to take greater care to be gentle this time when buckling me in, which I loathed. Sympathy-even the warranted kind-was despicable to me. I was a big girl; I could handle my own problems. Besides, what good would 'sorry' ever do me?

_"Faaaaanggg?" _I repeated. "Did you _heeaaarrrr me?" _He didn't seem to notice that I spoke, instead just hopping into the driver's seat. As realization began to sink in, I flailed wildly in the back. _"Noo, nooo, _please Fang! Don't tell, please don't _telllll! _I'm too _oooolllldddd _to be a foster kid, _Faaaangg! Please!" _If you tell anyone, I'll deny it, but there might have been some tears shed on my part.

"Go to sleep, Max," he murmured. "We'll talk in the morning."

_"Noo, Fangggg. _Fang, Fang, Fang. He'll _killl _meeee," I muttered drowsily. "I _caaan'ttt _leave."

"Please, Max, just go to sleep," he begged hoarsely, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

And so I did.

**A/N: Oooh... Drama! Happy New Year's, everybody! Review! **


	22. Hell Hath No Fury Like A Max Scorned

**A/N: So I've done drunk Max... And now comes hungover, pissed Max. What could be more fun? Review please!**

If you've ever been extremely hungover, you know that waking up in a stranger's bed with someone else's clothes on does not do much to help your pounding headache. Case in point: me.

The room I was in was completely black, save for the sunlight flickering through the curtains and an open, white door that had several yellow caution signs on it. Across the hall was another white door, this time decorated with a huge, hot pink, glittering 'N.' The brightness of it hurt my sore eyes, so I turned my gaze back to the room I was in. A glass desk sat in the far corner with a reading lamp on it, which was thankfully turned off. The wall to the left of me was lined with endless shelves of books, all of which had long, complex titles that seemed to be in different languages. I could not for the life of me place the setting, nor remember any details from what happened last night. Why wasn't I in my own bed, at home? Jeb was going to be pissed.

"Fuck," I moaned loudly, which was immediately followed by a great scramble of noise from downstairs. I covered my ears tenderly, wincing at the volume.

"Omigod, Fang, is she awake? Can I go check and see? I like, can _not _believe what happened last night... All that stuff she told you... Just... Ugh. Omigod. Poor, poor Max. I love Max! I don't hate her! God. What if she died thinking I hated her? That would so suck. I'd just feel _sooo _guilty. Fang, we have to go see if she's awake. Is she up? She definitely just said something. I think she dropped an f-bomb, but I don't know. That doesn't seem like Max. She hates bad words, you know? Poor Max."

Ah. So Nudge and Fang were involved. Fang. That explained the emoness of the room I was in. Where did he sleep last night? We didn't... No, I was still dating Sam. Wasn't I? And why did Nudge think I was dying? What did I tell them? Oh shit, what did I tell them?

"Max?" Fang's voice, sounding surprisingly gentle, interrupted my mental flurry of questions. "Are you okay?" I shook my head in an attempt to clear it.

"Yeah," I lied easily, one hand still over my face. "Just... Just don't talk so loudly."

"Oh."

"Yeah, um, I need to go. My dad... He's gonna be really pissed that I didn't, uh, call, or anything." I hesitated, debating whether it was worth Fang laughing at me. "And how... How did I get here?" Now Fang looked confused.

"Max... Do you remember anything that happened last night?" I raised my eyes cautiously.

"Remember? What is there to remember? I-I mean, I guess... I played beer pong with Bill, and then... Uh, I-I don't know," I realized in bewilderment.

"So you don't remember anything you... told me?" His voice sounded unnaturally high.

"Told you?" I repeated. "Told you... Oh, shit."

"Max-"

"Fang, really, don't listen to anything I said last night... Please? I mean, I-I was _drunk, _I was _delirious, _I couldn't be trusted to know my own name! Just... It's really no big deal, I have everything under control, so please, just-just take me home, and I promise you this won't happen again... Just-"

"Max, it didn't sound like you had it under control when you told me he had a gun.

"Lots of people have guns!" I begged hysterically.

"He could _kill _you, Max."

"He-he could, but... but he wouldn't!" Fang snorted.

"Yeah, you're right. He'd keep you around so he can keep _raping _you-"

"I never said-," I protested loudly. Breathing deeply, I lowered my voice. I'd once heard that calmness demanded attention, and I wasn't sure my poor head could handle any more excitement. "I never said he did... _that." _

"Yeah, I guess you didn't. But _did _he do that?" My mouth moved open and closed dumbly. "Exactly," Fang pointed out. "Dammit, Max, you need to learn to ask for _help! _How stupid do you have to be to let this go on this long? We can... We can find your mom, or a foster home, or _something-" _

_"Shut _up!" I screeched shrilly. "Shut up! You know _nothing _about my life, Fang. I was drunk, I-I didn't know what I was saying-"

"Yeah, so where did you get all those bruises?"

"Just let me _talk, _Fang! I have less than a year left of being in Jeb's care. That's it. Then I can leave... And do whatever the hell I want."

"Oh yeah," Fang said, as if this all made perfect sense. "So do you have a lot of money saved up for college and food and an apartment? You need _help, _Max-"

"I don't need help!" I insisted. "I don't _want _help, I'm fine-"

"You do, you do need help!" he hollered at me. I winced at his loud tone, out of fear and the pain that noise caused my head. "You need help," he whispered. "You're just too _fucking _stubborn to admit it, and-"

"Max?" Fang and I looked up to see Nudge hovering timidly in the doorway. Her expression was confused and, worst of all, scared. I never meant to be scary, like Jeb. I spent my whole life trying not to be. And here I was, with one of my best friends looking terrified.

"Hi, Nudge," I waved feebly, my voice shaky and rattling. To my dismay, a tear slipped down my cheek for the second time in 24 hours. I struggled to hide it.

"Oh, Max," Nudge sighed. As if we were in one of those overly dramatic, early movies, she rushed over to the bed and gave me a huge, theatrical hug. I Tried to struggle at first, but then decided that it felt kind of nice to be loved.

Maybe I could get used to this.


	23. One Big NotSoHappy Family

**A/N: Prepare yourself for some serious anger. Just warning you. Review please!**

Fang's bed had become my bed overnight. No, I don't mean we were sexing it up whenever we saw each other. He insisted on sleeping the couch, so the big, black, slightly depressing room was all mine. At my request, the authorities hadn't been alerted of my, uh... 'situation' yet and I was free to stay with the Wardens for a while. Truthfully, I felt a bit guilty about kind of crashing their life, but Fang and Nudge's parents were too nice to say anything about it, so it went ignored.

Occasionally, they tried to talk me into going to some kind of therapy or writing in a journal or something, but I was nowhere near willing to talk a stranger's ear off about personal problems. That was Nudge's job anyways. And she did just that, except with my friends... or, ex-friends, as the case may be.

It didn't take long for Iggy, Angel and Gazzy to get rounded up and driven over here by their parents, each of them holding bouquets of flowers. They hadn't spoken to me in a while, though I was sure that if I was allowed to go to school, they would have said something about the whole brouhaha sooner. From my nearly constant post on Fang's bed, I could hear them quietly conversing with Nudge and the Phantom outside.

"How did you _not _figure this out?" a furious Iggy demanded. "You're the one that's like, in love with her or something." Wait, Fang was in love with me? Aw. I have to admit, I kind of swooned. At least the door was closed. Although I could basically smell Fang fuming.

"Are you kidding me? I've never even _met _her dad. You're her best friend! Have you been fucking _blind _all of your life, or just really, really retarded?" Cue the sound of some immature shoves between the two and muttered curses. Not for long, though. Max to the rescue!

"Oh, _Hell, _no," I raged, swinging the door open to see Fang and Iggy halfway through strangling each other. "You are _not _dropping f-bombs and using what is possibly the most politically incorrect word in the world to describe each other while I'm sitting all alone in a room so black it should be a _funeral _home. So you can hug it out, apologize, and do something productive with your time here, or get your skinny white asses home before I _break _you for disturbing my beauty sleep, which I obviously need." I gestured to the bruises covering my legs, causing everyone in the corridor to wince like a bunch of wimps.

"You guys didn't know because I didn't _want _you to know," I continued forcefully. "And frankly, I _still _don't want you to know, which is why I was drunk off my _ass _when I told Gloomy Bear over here." I jabbed my thumb at Fang. "But of course, he chooses this to be the one time he actually _talks,_ so here I am, even though I had this whole thing all worked out and could totally have handled it. Oh, and, by the way, Nudge, how was your little pool party? You see, I actually _wasn't _off having lesbian sex with Lissa, contrary to _Angel's _belief, which you all lapped up like a bunch of stray dogs! So don't go playing the whole 'I told you so' game when each and every one of you was as oblivious as the next."

Guess I had more anger than I knew about my recent prospects.

"What are you all staring at?" I snapped rudely, my lip curling in distaste. "At least talk to me or something like the devoted little bedside visitors you are, instead of standing there and _pissing _yourselves like you've seen some kind of ghost." Like a little herd of zombies, they marched into Fang's room in a straight line, each of them mumbling some sort of tidbit information to please me.

"Uh... I have flowers for you, Max," offered Gazzy, holding them out to me. I smiled sweetly at him for being the only one in the room who hadn't gotten insanely caught up in the drama.

"Thank-you, sweetie," I cooed. Immediately, though, I turned back into Army Sargent Max. "Fang or Nudge," I barked. "Go ask your mother or father for a vase, and fill it with water, or is that too hard for you to comprehend?" Shaking her head timidly, Nudge scurried out of the room. "Faster, dammit!" I called after her. "The flowers need water to _live!" _In a flash, she returned with the requested materials.

"Max, uh... Are you okay?" Iggy raised his eyebrows at me as I channeled my anger into slamming the flowers in the glass container. Leering, I approached him. He leaned as far away from me as possible, scrambling backwards.

"I'm just peachy, Iggy," I exclaimed sarcastically. "What would ever give you an impression to the contrary? The fact that I'm living with a bunch of people who hated me up until I had some cool story? Or maybe is it that your _bitch _of a little sister turned all of my friends against me and hasn't even _fucking _said anything about it?" Angel studied the floor. "Not to mention that I have a boyfriend I have to break up with before a judge who knows _nothing _about my life ships me off to some deserted state so I can live in an orphanage until I turn 18 and am forced to become some kind... trucker, or something because I have no one to pay for college!"

"Max," Iggy tried again, looking like he was afraid that I was planning on eating him. "I know that this is all... happening really fast and stuff, but you won't be in an orphanage, you have your mom-" At the idea that she'd step up to the plate and take me back in, I cackled coldly.

"Oh, _please, _Iggy! She's not gonna do anything for me. It's _just _like Jeb said, _no _one _wants _me-" When the looks of horror on everyone's faces alerted me to what I said, I dropped my face in one hand, massaging the bridge of my nose. I'm still not sure how long we sat in awkward, shocked silence before I spoke up again, significantly calmer than before.

"Look, I, um. I appreciate you all coming, and stuff, but please just go." Biting my lip, I watched in silence as they stumbled out of the room, murmuring to each other. I couldn't help but feel grateful that they knew not to press me further, and yet I worried that my friendship with them would forever be changed. Angel tried to say something to me as she passed, presumably an apology, but I waved her on with the rest. I could deal with loneliness. In fact, I'd been dealing with it for 17 years.


	24. Denial Is The First Stage

**A/N: If you didn't guess, my vacation is over... :( But at least I got some important chapters in, eh?**

**Me ≠ James Patterson. Oh, and I don't own Dexter or Pretty Little Liars either. (You'll see why that matters.)**

I think the one good thing about having an abusive father and confessing is that suddenly, you become the richest person on earth. Not literally. You have to write a tell-all book on some celebrity to do _that._ But I had my own league of servants waiting on me 24/7. Aka, my ex-friends, who were in the process of doing some serious ass-kissing.

"Max?" Nudge's voice came as more of a squeak. I raised an eyebrow at her, a fistful of popcorn halfway to my mouth. We were watching Dexter, one of my all-time favorite shows, and my companions seemed to be getting a little bit queasy at the blood that was involved. What did they expect? It was a show about a police officer who was secretly a serial killer.

"Yup?" I popped the 'p' expectantly.

"Well... I think that I was just wondering if we could watch something like Pretty Little Liars instead of this because even though I guess you think it's really super good and all, we've kind of been watching it for like three hours and it's really creeping me out and I feel kind of sick and I think I'm gonna have nightmares, and Pretty Little Liars is kind of a mystery too so you might like that also and-" I held up a hand to silence Ms. Motor-Mouth.

"Lemme just finish this episode," I declared, turning back to the TV. I wasn't a total dictator, and I would rather not have her toss her cookies all over me. (Puke-green wasn't my color.) "But I don't want Pretty Little Liars," I revised my former statement. "Anorexic girls covered in dirt, looking for the killer of their bitchy best friend? No, thank-you." Fang smiled.

"Actually, Nudge, I'm kind of enjoying Dexter."

Oh, Fang. He was really great at sucking up to me. Like, superdy-duperdy great. Not that I let him get away with anything because of it. In fact, I used this to my advantage and made him my chief slave. (Not that anyone knew they were slaves. But they totally were.) Everything I needed, he got for me. Including the door, because just as I was pondering this, we were interrupted by a knock.

Huffily, I paused Dexter, watching Fang's back retreat into the front parlor. He looked _good. _For a friend, that is. I wasn't really paying attention to that. It was just like my drunken-self said. We were friends, so I was allowed to just notice these things, so long as I didn't act upon them.

I nearly fell of my seat when he came back with Sam. Not only were the two being civil, but they were having an amiable conversation. I have to say, I was never one to really believe in miracles, but this had to be one. Waving timidly, I stood to greet my guest, which raised the question of how. Did I hug him? Kiss him? I mean, it was pretty obvious we were over at this point, so I couldn't really start some intense make-out session.

"Hi," I settled for awkwardly.

"Hey," Sam responded. Everyone's eyes were burning holes into our faces. "Uh, can we, um, talk?" he requested. I nodded silently, sending pointed looks to everyone in the room. They filed out, Iggy lagging behind, glaring at Sam like the protective older brother he was to me.

"What's up?" I asked, as if I didn't know.

"Well, uh... I wanted to tell you that I... I didn't have anything to do with what happened at the party, or anything, and I'm really sorry about it. And, uh... Well, Fang told me what happened to you, with your dad and stuff."

Um, hold the phone. Fang does not speak with Sam about stuff like that. What the eff was going on?

"Wait, Fang?"

"Yeah... When you weren't in school, I tried, uh... talking to him, and I guess he thought I should know. So, anyways, I'm really sorry, and I know that we're probably... um, not dating anymore or anything, so... Just, uh, have a good life, I guess. You deserve it."

You see what I mean? Sam was just a big teddy bear. Adorable and cuddly, but eventually you have to grow up and move on from it. I smiled a genuine smile at his easy honesty, standing up to walk him out. Like two old friends, I gave him a comfortable hug.

"Thanks," I whispered. "You too."

It got only slightly awkward when Gazzy let out an untactful cough from behind the door, where everyone was hiding and spying on us super secretly. Or... not super secretly. Sam rubbed the back of his neck bashfully and I made sure to send all of them a harsh glare, which was enough to have them shaking in their boots. Given my attitude in the past few days, they did _not _want to make me mad again.

"Bye," I said cordially as Sam left, waving as he drove away. I was pleased to see that I did not have yet another enemy due to that fateful night at Lissa's. "You can come out now, idiots," I called down the hallway, plodding back to my position on the couch. One by one, they slunk into the room, silently sitting down.

"That seemed like it went well," pointed out Angel. Damn, that girl had guts. She was still hanging in a very thin balance with me, which meant that she was like a woman in the 1700s. Seen, not heard. (As sexist as that is, it came in use in certain situations.)

"Yeah, it did," I agreed through narrowed eyes, clicking the play button on the TV. I was eager to get back to Dexter, despite the fact that it was liable to traumatize me even more. (So, I didn't want to talk to them. Sue me. And at least I was decent enough to have an excuse.)

"Hey, Max, can I talk to you?" Fang requested carefully. Poor Fang. He was so close to being in my good graces.

Melodramatically, I switched the TV off once again and stormed out of the room. I could basically hear his smile from behind me. To him, all of my antics were merely amusing and an odd reaction to what would inevitably become my new life. He thought I was just same old Max and he was just same old Fang. How naive of him.

I couldn't ever be the same. _We _couldn't, to be specific. I had completely and totally humiliated myself and drooled over him endlessly for hours. I wasn't the type to get over that sort of thing. Childish as it was, I resolved that I would not allow myself to be in that position ever again, so I had to seriously cut down on Fang, and thus my _attraction _to Fang, which was kind of out the window due to the fact that he looked exceptionally hot in almost anything and I was _living _at his house.

"Yes?" I demanded snidely, looking around the room as if anything was more interesting than this conversation.

"So... you're single?" I whipped my head up. How arrogant could you be? I just ditched my abusive father and hadn't even been broken up with my boyfriend for five minutes, and he was moving on in. It was like he was some kind of vulture. What ever meager attraction I had felt to him seconds before was erased immediately. Because when you think about it, that's really just a despicable thing to do.

"Are you _seriously _making a move on me right now?" His lip quirked upward.

"Actually, I was making conversation, but..." I blushed.

"Oh, well. Yes, I am single, but that's information I would have shared with you when I felt comfortable."

"My apologies, Little Miss Lawyer."

"Forgiven." I sighed, scuffing my shoes against the hardwood floor. "So what did you want to say to me so badly?"

"Um, my parents actually wanted me to talk to you about court and stuff... Police reports, all that."

"Uh... Yeah, I'll... Um, I'll file them soon. I've been thinking about that, too." Lie. Police reports were the furthest thing from my mind although it probably should have been priority. Instead, I was caught up in the mysteries and trials of high school drama. Or the mysteries and trials of liking Fang and making myself not like Fang.

"Max, you may suddenly hate all of us, but I'm still able to tell when you're lying. Although your acting could have a future on Broadway it's so good."

"Thanks, I think," I sighed grudgingly. "But I'm not lying. I-I'll just, um... I can talk to your parents about this, you know; I'm comfortable with them enough, so it's fine... Everything's fine, Fang." Not wanting to be rude, I lingered until he confirmed the conversation was over. Instead of doing that, he lingered awkwardly with me in that weird, uncomfortable, decidedly Fang silence.

"You know you can talk to me about all of this?" he prodded. "Like, we're still... okay, after all of it."

"Definitely," I fibbed. He could be okay with the dramatic twists our relationship was taking, but I certainly wasn't. Biting my tongue to avoid a confrontation, I raised a questioning eyebrow at him, forcing him to speak.

"I-uh," he stuttered in a most un-Fang-like manner. Although he had about as much to say as a fish (that is, not much), when he did talk to anyone, it was generally with the utmost confidence in himself. "I didn't tell anyone to make you mad. Or ruin your life, or whatever. I was just, er... Really scared, um. For you." Aw. Isn't that sweet? Fang was scared for _me. _The thing is though, I don't need someone to be scared for me. In fact, I've survived 17 years without anyone being scared for me.

"I could have handled it," I told him shortly, studying the picturesque little street outside the window. I could see him fighting to keep calm, which, in a way, provoked me even further. I didn't want the way other people treated me to change just because of what they knew about my past. There was a time when Fang would probably have dared to shove me in that playful way best friends have, and now he was too afraid to even raise his voice. Whatever. Wimp.

"Maybe you could have," he said complacently through gritted teeth. "I didn't think you could have."

"You should have had more faith in me."

"It wasn't _you. _I would have done the same for anyone."

"So you're saying that if you found... say... _Sam _in the same situation, you would take him home and force him to go to the police?" A fire ignited in his eyes.

"My parents don't _have _to help you. I'm sure they wouldn't care if I had left you with your rapist of a father." _There_ we go. That's the brutal Fang I knew and loved. Well, not loved. Loved in a friendship kind of way... I'm not gonna even explain it.

"That's where you're wrong, Fang," I corrected him brightly. "They're adults. They don't know me. _You. _You know me. You know I could totally take Jeb if it got too bad."

"Nope. The Max I know would have taken him already instead of waiting to die." Touche. I had to hand it to him, that was kind of true. Not completely, though. I had destroyed Jeb a few times before. Just not as of late. I've already told you that being sober makes a difference, you know.

"Of course I've fought him. He has some scars of his own, you know. I just didn't leave because I didn't _want _to leave."

"What do you mean you didn't want to leave?" I shrugged.

"Just that. I don't want to go kiss my mom's ass and abandon all my friends! I have a life here Fang. You ruined it." I smirked. "Besides, I thought if I let it play out long enough my obituary would be read on a real live news channel," I added dryly, putting on a childish voice and clapping wildly. He spit.

"There are people who are taking this seriously, you know. They don't want you _dead."_

"Well, generally went it comes to being six feet under or being alive, I'd choose being alive. You know, as a personal thing. To each their own, though, I guess." He opened his mouth to make an oh-so-witty comeback that would surely fill his word quota for the day, but I raised a hand at the sound of a car engine in the driveway. I didn't want to have him go babbling to his parents about our little argument and end up in some kind of crazy house.

"Look, we had this conversation when I first got here, and nothing's changed. I still don't need this, however much you think I do. Okay?" Even though he didn't nod, I continued to act like he did, stalking back into the living room in my murderess mode, glowering at Nudge when she tried to make eye contact.

I kept expecting Fang to follow me in all moodily and glare at the floor for the rest of the day, and instead I heard a door slam. (Loudly.) Curiously, and, although I would never ever ever in a million years admit it, guiltily, I leaned over off the couch, studying the door for signs of anger or something. The point is, I just kept staring at the door and everyone thought I was having some horrible kind of flashback and was about to go and kill myself or do something drastic like that until I punched Iggy, who had the remote, for changing the channel from the Dexter marathon to some sports game.

"Football strategy can be interesting," he defended himself meekly.

"It would be if girls were allowed to play, sexist," I muttered back, searching wildly for my show before putting the volume up ten notches to ensure that I wouldn't be interrupted. I watched a few more episodes, alternately imagining the dead guys to be Jeb, Lissa, and Fang. Jeb for having the nerve to abuse me. Lissa for screwing around with my drink (I wasn'tnot dumb enough to think Bill just had a high alcohol tolerance rate.) And Fang for being a total and complete idiot who messed up my life while trying to help, which arguably was kind of sweet but also extremely annoying. Or it would be, if I cared. Which I didn't. Not at all. Because he was obnoxious. When I wasted any time at all noticing him.

God, this whole thing would be harder than I thought.


	25. Hide and Seek

Guilt sucked. Really badly. Like, worse than Edward and Bella's relationship dynamic in Twilight. And if you're a Twi-hard (whatever the eff that is), and you're offended by that, then... Well, then, I'm not even sure I want you reading this.

Anyways, as you might have guessed, I was kind of on a guilt trip about Fang going all screwy and storming out. Normally, I wouldn't have cared, but it was 10 PM and his parents were getting all worried about him and, honestly, so was I. To hell with the whole 'I hate Fang' business. Not having someone to argue with for that long made me restless. Mr. and Mrs. Warden had confined me to my room, not wanting to have to deal with two missing children, but I wasn't really one for following rules. So, I did the only thing that was logical to me. I grabbed the coat Nudge had given me and walked into the night.

Now, this proves just how guilty I really was. It was probably negative two degrees Fahrenheit outside and I merely had a light jacket, yet I continued to search near and far for the Emotionless Emo. Being Fang, he couldn't just sneak out to one of those normal places like... I don't know, illicit strip clubs or raging parties. Oh no. He had to be an anti-social prick and find the most invisible spot ever.

Looking for said invisible hide-out brought me to a great number of places I would prefer not to return to. Sketchy bars in the middle of nowhere, bonfires under docks on the beach, a dumpster. All the places that would soon be crime-sites with Lifetime movies centering on them. The idiot wasn't there. The moon was climbing in the sky and a frigid breeze was dancing through the air. I shivered, crossing my arms to me for warmth. All familiar landmarks were long passed, and it didn't take a genius to tell that I wasn't in the nicest part of town. A crag between two buildings lead to a long alleyway, the stereotypical headquarters for some kind of drug dealer.

"Fang," I hollered huffily, stalking down the alley. "You better hope to God I don't find you here." Guess the dumbo didn't hope hard enough, because sure enough, he was casually leaning against a grimy wall that was sure to give you some kind of STD just by touching it, hands in his pockets.

"What are you doing here?" he spat, obviously still not pleased about our earlier spat. I could tell he was at least a little bit surprised I had found him.

"I'm asking you the same exact thing, dumb ass," I said through gritted teeth. "Before your mother flips a shit."

"Language," he reminded me grumpily of my own rule. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm freezing cold, I have a headache, and this town is giving me the creeps. I'm allowed to curse."

"Just sayin'," he mumbled lazily. Straightening himself up, he continued, "Is there a reason you're here? You know, I kinda thought you hated me. Unless you've succumbed to my total seductiveness?" Well, I _was _prepared to say that I didn't hate him, but when he went and said that, I forced myself to think of a new excuse for being there. Looking around, I commented on the first thing I lay eyes on.

"Your hair," I said cryptically. He gave me a look that screamed _What? _"It's too long. It... It covers your eyes, and you're gonna like, um. Walk into a knife or something. So you should cut it."

"You came here to tell me that I should cut my hair."

"Yup," I confirmed, popping the 'p.'

"I'm not that dumb."

"That's news to me," I blurted out, forgetting that we were in the midst of a hate fest and I was no longer allowed to joke around like that with him. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"You probably shouldn't be here," he warned. "A lot of sketchy people. Guys like Jeb."

This is what I was talking about with the whole 'treat me differently' thing. I wasn't a helpless little puppy, lost in a big new city. I was a girl with a sucky life. To other people, there didn't seem to be a difference. To me, there was a big one. I still had direction and sense. I wasn't going to go running headfirst into dangerous situations. I wasn't an imbecile.

"Are you implying that I couldn't have taken them?" I snarled. In a very Fang-like gesture, he only managed to shrug before studying the wall opposite him.

I tok this lull in the conversation as a chance to examine him. He was still wearing the same thing as earlier, of course. In fact, he hadn't changed one bit. I didn't even know why I bothered looking for some imperceptible difference, seeing as it had only been a matter of hours since we'd last seen each other. Something just felt (and smelt) off. And then I saw it.

His right hand was jammed in his pocket which has curls of smoke drifting away from it. An ash spot was growing larger on his jeans, burning a sizable whole.

"Fang," I said calmly. He shifted his head toward me. "Are you... _smoking?" _I kid you not, he jumped about two feet in the air. A small blush graced his cheeks and he slipped his hand behind his back.

"Of course not," he lied. "That kills you."

"Then what's that cigarette in your hand, idiot?" Blinded by rage, I stormed over to him, fighting his stiff fingers for it. Holding it up, I forced him to look at me. "Do you know that this kills you?" I asked solemnly. "And it's a totally unattractive quality. You'll smell like shit 24/7 and age ten times faster. Plus, your lungs will slowly, slowly begin to shut down. You won't be able to figure out what's happening to you as your mind loses its will to think. Everything will be muddled, and you'll have no one to explain it all to you as everyone will have left you for starting to smoke when you were only 17-"

"Enough with the lecture, Max. I don't even smoke. A, uh... A friend of mine thought I was stressed and just... Offered me one." I gaped at him.

"So you _accepted?"_

"Uh, manners, right?" he tried to defend himself. I ignored this.

"I seriously pissed you off enough to make you take a cigarette off of a stranger? Were you absent in all of elementary school? And middle school? I mean, do not look to me to carry your little oxygen tank around in twenty years. You'll be the living dead! And _think _of the people this is affecting! Nudge, your parents, anyone around you will all be second hand smokers and die because of you! And honestly, as your friend, I have to tell you that if you keep smoking you will never get laid by anyone remotely attractive and end up being an old miser with a tumor so big it looks like a man-boob. Do you want that to be your life?"

Decidedly, I swiped the cigarette out of his hands, pinching out the flame. I let it float to the ground, where I ground the tobacco out of it with my heel. Fang watched me dumbly as I did this, raising an eyebrow at the fierce stomps I used to ensure that any light was out.

"You... Smoke... One more time," I huffed. "This will be you."

"Max, I wasn't-" he protested. "That was only my first one." I glared at him.

"Good. Then you shouldn't have too much of a problem quitting."

"Quitting what? My non-existent addiction?"

"Just come on. I'm not staying out here any longer and I don't know if I remember the way home."

_"Now _you need my help," he mumbled almost inaudibly. I punched his arm deftly, walking a few feet in front of him.

"Where next?"

"Left."

"You're an idiot."

"So you've said."

We continued like so until Fang's neighborhood edged on the horizon. Unlike my old house, here there were not miles between homes. It looked like it had popped out of a cartoon: the white picket fences, flower pots and artificially greened grass. The night cast a mysterious glow on all of them, making them seem ghostly. Only a vision of what could be; not really what was there. It reminded me of how everything felt when I was with Jeb. Any happiness was only temporary; the morning would chase it away in a second flat. I shivered at the memories, imagining just what Jeb was up to at that very moment. There was no way he'd file a Missing Person report. Not only would this seem to be his free ticket to become a super smart scientist, but if he told, he knew I would too. The fact that I hadn't returned for so long taught that to him. Of course, I didn't have a choice. But, in the end, I suppose I was grateful nonetheless.

**A/N: AWW! Sweetness... Cheese to the max. Haha, anyways, please review! Pretty please with ten cherries on top!**

**(I never understood that expression because honestly, cherries are pretty nasty.)**


	26. I Shot the Sheriff

**A/N: Hey guys... So this chapter might not be my best, but I just got some very upsetting news. My grandma has lung cancer :'( We don't know too much about it yet, like what stage she is, but we're hoping it's not too far along. Given the circumstances, I kind of rushed this, but hopefully it's okay. Review please!**

The first thing I noticed about Sheriff Kensington was that he really needed to blow his nose.

Mr. and Mrs. Warden and I were sitting directly across from the police chief of Greenwich, CT, who was a portly man with a few days' worth of stubble. His face, which was scrunched up like a bulldog's, showed lazy curiosity, although he looked more bored than anything. I desperately wanted to buy him Dunkin Donuts and give him a large cigar.

"How long has the abuse been going on for?" he demanded, eyes flicking back and forth between me and my hosts. They knew little to nothing about my childhood, only what my drunken self had told Fang. Since then, I'd stubbornly refused to talk due to the fact that I was absolutely positive I was safe. Now, though, the guilt about Tyrant-Max was starting to kick in. I guessed that it wasn't my friends' fault that Angel was a bitch and Lissa got me drunk enough to spill the beans. Besides, the stress I had had to deal with would have been there either way.

"Since my mom left," I answered confidently.

To be honest, I wasn't sure exactly when that was. Somewhere around that fuzzy line where random moments become memories and memories become your life. If you haven't caught on to this, Jeb wasn't really open to talking about the past as much as most parents, so I only had my wit to rely on.

"So...?" He looked frustrated, like he had more important calls to take. Please. No one had stolen anything in Greenwich for years and the biggest worry of the town was who was stepping on baby grass.

"Um, I was... five-ish, I guess."

"Five, or five-_ish?" _I bristled.

"Five-ish." The sheriff scowled at me before examining his papers.

"You're a minor?" Well, my birth certificate was right there. I hadn't forged it. So, _duh. _I was a minor.

"Aren't you supposed to know about law? If I'm seventeen, then I'm obviously not eighteen, which means that _yes, _I am a minor."

One of the lesser officers disguised a chuckle into a cough. My eyes moved to him curiously. I couldn't imagine that he was more than 19, so I guessed that he was simply an intern, or something. He had wavy blonde hair and beach-y blue eyes, kind of like Sam. He was handsome, I guess, but I wasn't really paying attention. All I wanted was to be out of there. Besides, no one could really beat Fang. (Not that I found Fang attractive, because he totally wasn't. Ahem.)

The corpulent sheriff cleared his throat, directing my attention back towards him.

"And the rape?" he continued. I winced at his blatant reference to it. "How long?"

"Since my seventeenth birthday," I mumbled.

"I see," he grunted.

Yeah, right. He didn't _see _what was going on. He was merely doing his job and taking a case that he found way too common to be interesting. I breathed moodily through my nostrils, slicing him apart with my eyes.

"We'll start an investigation on the situation. Look into it." I fumed.

_"Look into it?" _I repeated, gaping. He nodded cautiously. "I'm not just making this up for attention. Why would... God, why would _anyone _make this up? And you are really sick if you think that I'd just come here to pull your leg about something like this. This was seventeen years of my _life, _and you're just _looking into it?" _

"That's... That's all we can really do, at this point," he stuttered. I seriously considered flashing him, partly to get his attention and partly to show him the bruises. Shouldn't they have been proof enough for him?

"Max, I think it's time to leave," Mrs. Warden said gently when she saw steam streaming from my ears. I nodded stiffly, pushing my chair back and intensifying my glare at anyone and everyone in the office. _Jerks, jerks, insensitive jerks, _was all I could think as I was escorted out of the room by the handsome man from earlier.

"I know we may seem like we don't care," he told me from the corner of his mouth, echoing my thoughts to a tee. "But we do, really. We're merely following proper procedure. It would be unfair, you see, if we arrested him without more than one piece of evidence, and you're out of harm's way now, so... It's all just part of the show. We _will _incarcerate him. Even not having a gun license would be enough for us."

I ignored him, stalking forward more quickly in hopes of leaving the creepy cop behind. No such luck.

"I'm Dylan Levi," he introduced himself. "I'm interning here for school so I can make sure I know what to major in." I raised an eyebrow at his outstretched hand, ignoring him once again. Awkwardly, he lowered it to his side, sticking both hands in his pockets. "Well, good luck with the case," he murmured as I stomped over to Fang and Nudge, who were waiting for their parents and me to emerge.

"How was it? And who was that totally hot guy? I guess you're not really, like... up to a relationship though, huh? I mean, I seriously think it's like, _ah-_mazing how you've bounced back from all this and everything. Plus, Lissa's going to look like _such _a bitch after all this is done. You know, for getting you drunk. Not that that matters more than you being like, alive, and stuff, but it's still like, a nice perk and all." Can you guess who that was?

If you guessed Fang, then...

You're a true idiot. It was Nudge, dumbo. Fang was just sitting there, staring at Dylan and looking like he wanted to punch something.

"What's your problem?" I muttered, poking him on the arm. He shrugged.

"God Fang, like, you are just too silent for your own good," Nudge warned him. "I mean, one day, it's all gonna just like, I dunno, bubble over and you're gonna just like, _freak _out, and I really hope you don't do something scary and drastic or anything, because-"

"I'm not gonna murder you in your sleep," Fang growled, sounding like he'd heard the speech before. I couldn't help but laugh at his expression.

"Hey, we good?" I asked. He nodded.

"I don't really have a choice, seeing as you live at my house now and everything..."

"And you'll never smoke again?"

"What! Fang _smoked? _I just cannot believe that, I mean it's just too nasty, and Max I knew you found him last night, but smoking? Like, seriously, I would have ripped him a new one, and mmffmmm." Fang slapped a strong hand over her mouth.

"Shut up," he hissed. "Mom and Dad are _right there. _And no, I don't smoke. Max just saw a cigarette." I snorted.

"Yeah, right. A cigarette in your hand." He glared at me.

"You're infuriating."

"You deserve it," I shot back at him. He sat back in his seat.

"Kids, you ready?" Mr. Warden called from the front of the station, beckoning us over. I dragged my friends over, surprised at how easy it was to slip back into a normal routine after something as big as filing charges.

The Wardens had stayed a few minutes longer with the police, discussing what arrangements should be made for me. Until I saw them, I had basically forgotten that I wasn't with a legal guardian and that I'd inevitably be moving soon. Anxiously, I inquired what had been decided. Mr. Warden sighed.

"Well, Max, as Sheriff Kensington said, they still have to confirm all of this." I opened my mouth to protest that it shouldn't _have _to be confirmed any more than it had been, but he held up a hand. "Unfair as it is, we have to listen. So until then, you're allowed to stay with us. After that... Well, we're probably going to have to get in touch with your mother somehow."

I nodded distractedly. I had known from the beginning that there was no way of avoiding a reunion with my mom, but hope springs eternal. In the back of my mind, I'd been praying for there to be some loophole. Of course, there wasn't. The prospect of meeting an essential stranger who had the same DNA as me and the family she was sure to have built loomed before me. For some inexplicable reason, I grabbed Fang's hand. Maybe I could do it. Maybe.


	27. Buffalo Aren't Cool

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! I was visiting my grandmother. By the way, who here watches Downton Abbey? It's the mothereffing best. So, the chapter. Right. Some Max and Iggy friendship. Some Max and everyone friendship. You know, fluffy stuff that makes your intestines feel all warm. BTW, I have a new MR one-shot up... Read it please!**

**Oh, and if this sounds like it's in a weird voice... It's because I've been reading a lot of stuff set in olden days, so I'm struggling to get back into modern times :)**

**I don't own MR. But one day I'll own Fang... One day...**

Before I begin the rest of my story, a piece of advice. If anything ever goes wrong in your life... The cure is Iggy's pancakes. Not that store-bought junk that's advertised with a bunch of toddlers smiling toothy grins. Legit pancakes, made by Iggy.

So yeah, that was why I was eating a batch of pancakes at what was around 3 PM in the Warden's kitchen. Upsetting news and PMS can do that to you, you know.

"You gonna want more?" Iggy asked from the stove. I oh-so-politely covered my mouth with my hand, sparing him the sight of chewed food rolling around in my gaping jaws.

"Nah," I told him. "Just some orange juice. Please." He obliged silently, filling my cup to the brim. He might as well have left it empty, seeing as I had it gulped down in a total of two seconds. It was like it was my entire old life, one that was certain to be changed. The police department had left a message that morning, and they wouldn't call for any other reason than to say that they had tracked down my darling mother. Needless to say, I was not pleased.

"You don't know that she's awful. You haven't met her, Max." I scoffed.

"She left."

"People change," he reminded me feebly, although I could tell he knew his argument was useless.

"Yeah, well." Iggy leaned on the counter across from me, smirking. Mentally, I braced myself for one of his perverted verbal attacks.

"I guess you don't want to leave your dearest Fang, huh?"

Imagine a very ripe tomato. Now imagine a very ripe Red Delicious apple. Put those two colors together and you might picture how red I turned. It was like Fang and I had some sort of weird fan club within our group of friends. I mean, whenever we had the slightest argument, it was like that Kardasian-Humphries breakup all over again. _But you guys are such good friends! You have to make it work, you promised you would! You're disgusting if you don't! _Um, hello? I glared at the guy. I didn't shove a knife down his throat. And Fang and I were not anything to worry about. We were... nothing. Just friends. Yes, I know that that sounds like I'm playing dumb, but really, I knew I liked him. I knew that very well. That just didn't mean we were soul mates.

"I don't want to leave _anyone," _I murmured. "In fact, I wouldn't have too much of a problem with leaving Fang behind."

"That's a lie," Iggy pointed out slyly. "You're in love. I know it's true; I've watched too many sappy soap operas with my mom to ignore the signs." I rolled my eyes. "Really, though. Do you like him?" I jutted my chin out.

"So what if I do?" He cackled.

"I just have to polish my sword; make sure he knows the consequences if he turns out to be a douchebag."

"I think 'jerk' was the word you were looking for," I suggested dryly. "Not everything's changed, and I still don't want to listen to a rap song all day."

"We don't curse enough to be a _rap _song," he protested.

"Fine," I sighed. "A passionate Rn'B tune." Always the mature one, he stuck his tongue out at me.

"Who knows? Maybe your mom will be close by," he shrugged, refocusing me on the issue at hand.

"Maybe," I agreed doubtfully. "Or maybe she'll be in South Dakota."

"South Dakota wouldn't be awful." I gaped at him. "It would be sub-par, but... Hey, buffalo are pretty cool." I wasn't amused. "Playing devil's advocate here, Max. Shoot me."

"I would, if you didn't make the best pancakes ever."

"I try," he smirked humbly.

"I'll miss you guys," I murmured shyly, unaccustomed to being so fluffy and sweet and feelings-oriented.

"You too, Maxy." The prospect of leaving worried me so much that I hardly even glared at him. My everything was in Greenwich, as much as I hated it there. I'd never moved before, so the world beyond seemed distant and cold. I had no prior experience to leaving things behind. I didn't know how to stay in touch with people, how to make new friends. The last time I'd worried about that stuff was kindergarten. I bit my lip worriedly. _Idon'twannaleaveIdon'twannaleaveIdon'twannaleave, _I thought to myself, the phrases stringing together. I didn't even know where I was going yet and I was a wreck.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

**A/N: So, not great, but it's kinda rushed since I kept you waiting so long. Review!**


	28. Goodbye, Friend Zone: Hello, Awkward

Packing sucks. Especially when you're on your way to meet the woman who abandoned you. That woman and her new and improved family. The Wardens had been making feeble attempts at cheering me up all afternoon, but the only thing that would truly make me happy was strangling some cute, fluffy bunnies and getting all that anger out.

Now that Jeb was in custody, all my things had been returned to me, although I wasn't sure how much I wanted to keep them. They had to many stories and connections behind them. Just wearing a certain shirt made me feel like some kind of ghost. Glancing at my watch, I sighed. I had exactly an hour and a half until I had to be at the police department to meet my mother. (The word 'mom' sounded too accepting, like she had cared for me. I would be resistant to the last.)

In terms of my relationships, they were all going well. Finally. Angel still hadn't officially apologized, but I wasn't sobbing with sorrow that she didn't like me. In fact, I wasn't too sure I liked her either. Everyone else was back on my good side, for the most part. I'd been watching Fang like a hawk for any sign of cigarette smoke or equally incriminating evidence. Part of me wanted to start shunning them all then and there since I knew I would never see them again. All it takes is one of us accidentally losing a number or forgetting to call and then it would be over. Why wait that long? The bigger, childish part of me was holding on the hope that this could all be fixed in the end.

"Hey Max. Can I talk to you?" I gritted my teeth and turned to face Fang.

"I'm busy," I said shortly. Realizing that I would sound like a bitch, I hastily added, "But you can hang out in here if you want." He nodded very Fangishly and sat on the bed, studying me. I could tell that he was preparing for my goodbye too, trying to ingrain me into his memory. I put a smile on my face. If this was his last image of me, might as well make it a good one, right? "So... what's up?" He smirked.

"I know things have been weird between us since that night... But I just wanted to tell you that I, too, love you more than you'll ever love Sam or I'll ever love Lissa." My cheeks burned crimson. Seriously? Out of everything that happened that night, _that's _what he took away? And did he just say he loved me? Oh my God. He totally did. Fang loved me! As a friend, though, I was sure. Because we weren't relationship people.

"Wha...?" Smooth, I know.

"Just saying. You know, because you seemed pretty distressed." I was going to wipe that smug look off of his face, really, I was. I was like _thisclose _to beating his ass into next year. But then we both kinda stepped forward and our noses were touching and you can't really hit an attractive guy in that position, you know?

"Fang," I said shakily. "What are you..." And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. He kissed me. It was quick enough to make me wonder if he'd made a mistake and went and kissed the wrong Max, or something. "Doing?" I finished squeakily. He kissed me again... And again... And again...

I'm not gonna lie here. It felt like eating ice cream on the hottest day of the year. That is, really, _really, _fantastically, amazingly good. So I kissed him back and we kind of, like... ate each others' faces off. It was like watching Animal Planet during the primal mating season - on one hand, it was pretty nasty, but on the other it seemed so natural. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out any intruding images of my not-so-stellar past with my perverted father. I was all ready to stop the whole making out thing and even prepared myself to pull away... And then Fang's tongue flickered out and I turned into the wicked witch of the west when Dorothy poured water on her.

I'm ashamed to admit that I moaned a few times while all this was going on. Moaned, actually _moaned. _But then again, Fang did too. Hey, we were hormonal teens who thought we'd never see each other again. We had a right to be horny. I dug my nails into his back as his lips drifted across my collarbone.

"Fang," I gasped.

"Mm-hmm?" he murmured.

_"Ma-ax!" _I stumbled away from Fang's lips, struck with an odd sense of deja vu as Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy and Angel paraded into the room to see Fang with his arms around me in a suggestive manner. Only this time, we couldn't really deny that anything had happened. Not with my multiple hickeys, both of our swollen lips, and Fang's 'little friend' just dying to pop out. A mouthful of chips fell to the ground as Gazzy's mouth dropped wide open.

"Shit," Fang mumbled. I didn't bother correcting him.

"I would've thought you'd say 'fuck,' but I guess you two are past that," Iggy smirked sarcastically. I glared at him.

"I was totally right!" Nudge squealed. "Like, you guys are gonna get married and have tons of little babies and I'm gonna be like, that really cool aunt that everyone loves and we're all just gonna like, backpack around Europe or something for you wedding, which is gonna be _awesome, _BTW, because I'm totally planning it and I'm picturing like, a lavender theme because that is just so totally _hawt _and this is just so, so perfect!"

"N-no, that's totally _not _what's going on," I assured them firmly.

"It's not?" Fang murmured.

"No. I-I was just saying... goodbye. Because I'm leaving. You know, in like, twenty minutes, or something. Just... no. Um, everyone, you should probably, like leave. You too, Fang." A hurt, childish pout flickered over Fang's features before melting back into stoic nothingness. He shrugged like it didn't matter to him that I'd basically said kissing him was a mistake.

"My mom's gonna drive you to the station in like... two minutes," he grumbled, following everyone else. Sighing, I slammed the door behind him.

You know, sometimes, I really hate my life.


	29. Mommy Dearest

**A/N: At last, the long anticipated arrival of Valencia! I don't own MR... Review please!**

Oh, how I hate meeting new people.

It's one thing if it's a stranger off the the street that like, bumps into you or something. That I don't mind so much. I just roll my eyes and walk away, because that's how I roll. But when it's my mother, who abandoned me for an entirely new family? Then some serious shiz is about to go down, I promise you.

Mentally preparing myself for an epic showdown, I settled back into my seat at the police station, staring at the concrete wall in front of me. I didn't bother to hide my disdain when the door clanged open and a kindly, middle-aged women sat down in front of me.

For a second, I was sure there had been a mistake. This woman was Mexican. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but we looked _nothing _alike. She had curly, black hair to my straight blonde and her skin was deeply tanned. Part of my mind remembered the conversation I had with Jeb before he raped me the first time: when he'd told me that I had her eyes. I could barely see the resemblance.

"Max?" the woman asked timidly. "I'm Valencia Martinez. I'm your mom." I sneered at her, pleased when I saw her shrink in her seat.

"Well, I guess the cops told you everything about me, so why don't we just skip my name and get this over with, okay? Just because I'm living with you doesn't mean I have to talk toyou." She flinched. "Where are you shipping me off to, anyways? Some place that like, wipes your memory of the mutant you gave birth to?"

"Max," she began feebly. "It wasn't like that, not at all."

"Just answer the question," I growled. Sighing, she complied.

"I live in Arizona."

"Arizona?" I echoed disbelievingly. She was going to force me to move across the country to some desert where I would be eaten alive by starving vultures? No, thanks. Before I could say this, she held up a hand.

"But I know you have friends here, and this can't be easy for you, so I applied for a new job. Which I got. It's somewhat closer to here, so-"

"Where is it?" I interrupted impatiently. "Greenwich?" She squirmed in her seat.

"No... The-the therapist the police had me talk to said there would be too many memories for you here." I snorted. Therapist? Deep inside me, anger boiled. I wasn't some file locked away in a drawer. I was a person, not some kind of sob story. "So I've arranged to get a townhouse in New York," she finished.

Involuntarily, I perked up. New York wasn't so far away that I'd leave my friends behind forever, and, like every troubled teen, the big apple seemed like the answer to all my problems. It was accepting, and inspiring, and big enough to blend into. You know, all that cliche crap.

"My kids will be there with us... Do you mind?"

"Like it matters," I scoffed. "What are you gonna do, abandon them? Oh, wait, yeah, you are. I forgot this was you we were talking about here. My bad."

"Max," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm trying to make this easier for you, and-"

"And I'm trying to understand why you left me with that... that _thing!" _I burst out. "You knew what he would do, and you abandoned me. There's nothing else to say."

"I did _not _abandon you," she spat. "I tried to take you with me, but Jeb sued. I didn't have money to get a good lawyer, and even if I dead, I didn't have any proof. Cut and bruises don't last forever." I thought of the scars that marred my stomach.

"Some do," I corrected her firmly. Inside, I was reeling with the realization that she had even tried. Maybe not hard enough, but at least I was loved by her the tiniest bit. Otherwise she wouldn't have bothered. She crumpled.

"Max, I got over him. You can too. Please, just let us help you."

"I don't need your help," I insisted fiercely.

"You're seventeen and you've gone through something that no _fifty _year old should have to go through. You can't do it alone." I pulled my hand of the table just before she could grab it. "You can't keep letting someone in only to push them out again. Don't think about things so much; if you feel something..." This was all getting dangerously close to my non-relationship with Fang. Significantly freaked out, I bounded up from my seat.

"You think I can't do this by myself? Watch me," I snarled. "I've been doing it for the past seventeen years, anyways."

And with that, I succumbed to my inner diva and stormed out of the room like the spoiled brat I never got to be.


	30. Home Sweet Home

**A/N: Okay, so NOW I have the right chapter. Btw, since I'm too lazy to write good description scenes, please go to my profile and look at the pictures of the (epic) townhouse I envision for Max and co.. Her room is up there also. As previously stated, it's epic and I would destroy it if I tried to describe it. You know, just one of those things. I WILL however be providing you with a kind of blueprint of the house since I changed where a lot of things are. Review please!**

It was getting harder and harder not to like my mom.

First, she gives me a plate of homemade cookies that are legitimately worth dying for. Then, she gets me a new phone and laptop. _Then, _she shows me our new townhouse. Which happens to pretty awesome.

It was in the West Village, aka the home of the pseudo hipsters. You know, the people that act like they're hipsters, but actually have jobs and live fairly conventional lifestyles. There were street fairs like, 24/7, complete with free kettle corn, stands that sold trinkets, and live music. I felt like I was in the 60s all the time. Just, minus the pot and stuff. 'Cause that's not cool, kids. Not cool.

Anyways, the townhouse was pretty normal from the outside, but on the inside it was _sick. _When you first walked in, you could either walk up the stairs or go down the hall, which had a single door of rough, textured wood that led to the bathroom. A little further down from that was the joint living room, dining room and kitchen. Most everything was pure white, including the ladder upstairs. And yes, you read that right. There was a latter between the kitchen and dining room. And it led to my new brother's bedroom, which had a curtain instead of a door and jutted out above the fridge.

Upstairs was awesome, too. The second you walked up the stairs and into the second floor, you were in the family room. Like everything else in the house, the walls and ceiling were white. A backless, white couch rounded the corner of the room, and was only held up by huge blocks of wood underneath it. It was livened up with little yellow pillows that were kinda endearing.

Next to the basket of plants, the room narrowed off into a small hall. The walls were just big enough to have one door on each one: the one on the right led to my new brother's room (the one above the kitchen), the one in the middle to my new mom's room, and the one on the left to my new sister's room. To the left of my sister's room, there was a set of stairs similar to the one on the first floor. I was about to point out that I had been forgotten, but right at that moment my good ole mom pulled me up to the next floor.

I walked up into a small drawing room. It's white walls were molded with rectangles and squares that matched the height of the furniture and the ceiling was a cloudy blue. Across from me was a vanity. On either side of the desk part of it were taller cabinets. The vanity and cabinets were white, and the drawers and doors had sky colored lining on them. The sides of the cabinets were mirrored on the desk side, as was the wall in front of the shorter part of the vanity. Three white and light blue runners hung from the middle part. Above the taller parts of the vanity were two windows, covered with curtains emblazoned with the same elaborate pattern as the runners. Two vases filled with oranges and leafy green plants stood on the tallest parts of the vanity. A zebra print chair faced the desk part. On the next wall was a stout mirror, which was directly across from a white door. Above it all was an elaborate chandelier. Timidly, I pushed open the door to my room.

My jaw dropped. The rest of the house had been cool, but nothing was as awesome as this. My bedroom's walls were molded, like the drawing room's, but they were painted a deep, yet bright turquoise. My bed was on the same wall as the door. It had a simple, gray-white blanket that ran to the floor, where it was rimmed with gray. There were two normal pillows, one cylinder pillow with tiny brown and white criss-crosses, and one square pillow with the same pattern. On either side of the bed were white, simplistic night tables with a low shelf on the very bottom. The shelves were stacked with books, and the main surfaces of both tables held small white vases of orange flowers and turquoise lamps with shades the same color as the bedspread with the same gray rim. Above the lamps were beaded sconces, and in between those was a gorgeous mural of a white, flowery tree, flecked with orange and yellow birds. At the foot of the bed were two squat, zebra-print, cloth tables. Their legs crossed each other delicately.

The wall to the right of the bed was just as perfect. A white chair with a tiny gold crown was in the corner of the room, right next to the door. Above that was a square window. The curtains in this room were the same as in the drawing room, except instead of blue, they were orange. On top of them were roman shades in weird, curved shapes. A short, topaz-colored set of two drawers sat next to the chair. Awe-inspiring conch shells of different colors and sizes stood on the drawers, alongside a full, clear vase of tall green leaves and shorter orange tulips. Behind this was a mirror with an ornate, gilded gold frame. Next to the dresser was another, larger pair of window. Here, there were two curtains underneath the roman shade that could be drawn together. A clear table with three quilted, leather turquoise chairs basked in the light of the window. On top of the table was a creamy, ceramic bowl of orange flowers. A borderline ugly picture of some model hung over the table, but I could always fix that.

Across from the bed was a dark mahogany wardrobe. It was followed by a set of windows like the one above the table, but this time they illuminated a shiny white seat and foot rest. A tall lamp that was made to look like two pieces of bamboo had been tied together towered over the chair. A tiny trashcan was almost tucked under the chair. Another weird looking picture hung on the wall near this, and I made a mental note to change it to one of me and my friends.

Coming full circle, there was another white door to the bathroom next to my bed, making it all perfectly symmetrical. Immediately, I was in love. Somehow, I felt at home for the first time in my life. Probably just the atmosphere of the city of dreams, but maybe it was tinged with something else.

Whatever it was, I had the strangest feeling that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

**A/N: Please, just go look at the pictures on my profile.**


	31. Family Reunion

**A/N: Well, I'm doing something kinda risky here. I'm making Ella and Ari sorta unlikable. Not super annoying or anything, just irritating. Because, let's face it, if your mom went off and had kids with some stranger and left you with your abusive father, you wouldn't be buddy buddy with them, either. Oh, yeah, and Ari's Valencia's kid in this. Not Jeb's. Just so I can make it... You know, make sense and all instead of it being like, "Oh, hey, I magically have your father's kid that's not actually mine!" And, one more thing. Since Max is three years older in this, so are they. **

You know that thing regular people do, where they all sit around a table and eat together? Oh yeah, family dinners. You know how awkward family dinners are with people you've never met before? Well, I do.

My mom's kids (I guess I should start calling them my _siblings) _arrived just in time for some medium-rare sirloin steak, which I was pretty excited for. Steak being yummy, and all. And the perfect food to stuff your mouth with so you can't talk to the weirdos at the table. Could my siblings give me that one small happiness? Nope. Instead they each threw their own mini hissy-fits.

The little brother with the awesome loft room, Ari, had a ginormous one. For some ungodly reason, he got it into his head that I was there to steal his thunder or whatever, at which I responded that he'd arguably stolen my mother. I'll admit, not my best move. Valencia (my mom, who I have decided to hold on a first name basis) shuffled around guiltily in the corner and the eleven year old who was my brother channeled all the anger of the gods into this one big like, roaring noise. And I kid you not, he picked up a steak knife. What the eff is an eleven year old planning to do with a steak knife? Hopefully not cut my head off, because I don't think I'd be too okay with that. Valencia had to basically tie him to a chair to calm him down. Little devil.

Meanwhile, Ella, my sister, was having her own, less pronounced tantrum. She was sitting down at the table, seemingly dignified, and I was actually thinking she might turn out to be tolerable. And then her lip started quivering.

"Mom," she croaked. "I thought-I thought I told you I was a vegetarian." She shook her head briefly. "Never mind. I can just starve to death." I raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, just make yourself a sandwich," I suggested helpfully. Apparently, this nugget of sisterly advice wasn't appreciated.

"That's not the _point. _The _point _is she forgot about me." Now don't get me wrong, I totally understand adolescent drama. Ella was fourteen, she was bound to be all "rebellious" and whatnot. But, really. At least your mom remembered to buy you food, you know? It could be worse.

"Ells," Valencia sighed. She frowned mid-thought, thinking. "Oh, wow, you're right. How _stupid _of me." Shockingly, she wasn't saying this sarcastically. I guess the apple _does _fall pretty far from the tree.

"Max, did your dad ever rape you?"

And all other conversations froze.

_"Ari," _Valencia shrieked. "Max has been through some horrific things and you are _not _to force her to remember that time. What happened then is her business, and no one else's. Apologize. Now." He shrugged.

"What for? I was just askin'." Valencia struggled to stay calm, and for a second, I felt bad for her, really. It couldn't have been easy to find the kid you weren't allowed to keep raped and scarred for life and then have that same kid join your new family in possibly the most awkward reunion in history. If that makes any sense. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, not knowing whether I should respond or not to my new brother's questions. Thankfully (or not-so-thankfully), Ella beat me to it.

"He did though, didn't he?" she prodded. Seemingly realizing that she'd crossed a line, she bit her lip guiltily. "I mean... Like, that's... that's usually what happens, in _those _kinds of situations, right?" Somewhat perversely, I was the only one who appeared to remember that there was a nine-year old in our midst and that in-depth discussions on sexual assault and domestic violence probably weren't too good for him.

"How do you even know what rape _is?" _I wondered aloud. Ari looked up at me matter-of-factly.

"I like crime shows. CSI and shit like that."

_"Ari!" _Valencia roared for the second time. "You do not use that word in this house! Or any house, for that matter!" I couldn't help it; I had to stifle a laugh. Yeah, I know, it's immature and a bad example or whatever to think it's funny when kids curse. But come on, we all know it is... It's just also kinda disturbing. "Now go to your room before you upset Max." So he climbs up his effing _ladder _and just pulls his sliding door across his room. Seriously, why do nine year olds get the cool stuff? Plus, the location is like, prime for stealing food in the middle of the night. I totally deserved it!

"Hey Mom? I'm really not so hungry," Ella sighed, flipping her hair. "Can I be excused?" Valencia nodded stiffly and Ella threw me a cautious smile before retreating to the stairs. Now that we were alone, my mom and I sat in a loaded silence.

"I really am sorry, Max. They just... don't really know how to deal with this."

"It's fine."

"Hungry?" she said suddenly, offering me the platter of steak. I tried to smile graciously as I shoved some on my plate. If it was anything like my new family, it wouldn't be good.


	32. All's Unfair In Love And War

Even though I was arguably traumatized from the worst family dinner ever, I was sent to school the very next day. Isn't that just fabulous? Third full day in a totally new life and I was sent to the place where civilization goes to die. The only upside was the place wasn't my old, stuck-up school, which meant there were no uniforms, and _definitely _no one who knew about my drunken rant at Lissa's party. As long as she didn't stalk me and make sure my life was ruined forever. Which I wouldn't really put above her. Anyways, I was strolling down the streets of the good ole Empire State, alone with my two siblings since my mom had work and couldn't be there to play referee.

"So, Ari, you know where your school is?" I asked, because truthfully I hadn't been listening when my mom outlined the route on a map. He shrugged.

"I know where the park is," he offered.

"Unhelpful," I scolded. So this was their first day at school too. They should have been studying maps while I recovered from my horrible, horrible past. Hadn't they ever seen a Lifetime movie before? I'd subconsciously lead them to a kidnapper's lair if they left me so helpless. Geez, kids today.

Naturally, I was not spending my day at Central Park, paying for overpriced, mediocre blueberry muffins with my creepy little brother and whiny sister. So I did the normal, New York thing. I asked a policeman, who, I promise, was a total stranger. Or so I thought. Because, there are like, 34,500 police officers in New York. So why would I run into one I know? But life likes to screw with me sometimes, so the guy I stopped started acting like we were old friends and I was polite enough not to kick him in the balls for stalking me.

"Max!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" I frowned.

"Uh... Living?" It wasn't supposed to be a joke, but he laughed anyways. "What are _you _doing here, Officer... uh...?" His face fell drastically.

"Dylan," he provided brokenly. "Remember? From the police department?"

_"Oh," _I remember suddenly. "Right. Um, wow, no offense, but, uh, why are you here? I mean, aren't you, like, Connecticutian?" I added to make myself sound better. He nodded dumbly.

"I hung out over there for a little bit. But, it's super cool, like, the day you came, I got accepted to the NYPD. I mean, how weird is that? You're my good luck charm!" And I was starting to get seriously weirded out by this conversation.

"That's great, Dylan, but, I've actually gotta run, 'cause, we're going to school right now, since, you know, I'm still a minor. And you're... not a minor. So, uh, yeah. Later!"

I hurried my dysfunctional family away, vaguely registering the sound of drivers cursing Dylan out for standing in the middle of the road and waving at me.

"I'm law enforcement!" he yelled in response. "Calm yourselves! Just tell me what the problem is, and I'll fix it." I wonder sometimes if it's _fun _to be that stupid.

* * *

><p>School, when we finally found it, passed as school always did. It was like I was back in Greenwich, except we all wore our own clothes. Well, almost. <em>Other <em>people wore their own clothes. As for me, I was stuffed into a Nudge-approved outfit. Because why would I think of dressing myself? Psh. That stuff's overrated.

Luckily, Nudge was fairly merciful in dressing me. I was given slightly ripped, light wash, high-waisted skinny jeans; a kinda sheer tank-top with white stripes (I insisted on wearing a plain, white tank underneath to ensure no one would see my boobs); and a pure white, short-sleeve button-down which I was too leave unbuttoned. I mean, really. What's the point of that? But since I did not doubt Nudge would find a way to make sure I wore the outfit, I put it on, along with all the accessories that she claimed "made the look." These included, but were not limited to: two strings of amber and black beads twisted together, which were kept in place under the folded down collar of the button-down; black braided bracelets with gold accents; and black nail-polish. Oh-so-kindly, I was given permisson to wear my trusty combat boots.

Most of the day, I nodded along to what other people said, occasionally smirking, but... I don't know, none of it really mattered to me. I'd come in at the tail end of the year and I'd be out soon enough. Why get too attached?

This belief only solidified when I got home to see all of my friends lounging around my living room and realized that I couldn't even handle the five of them properly. Plus Ella decided to crash because it was obviously 'super chill' to hang out with the older kids.

"So, did the New Yorkers upstage us?" Iggy prodded playfully. I rolled my eyes at him.

"Well, it wouldn't take much," I teased. "But surprisingly, they didn't quite live up to the task. Little boring for my taste." Here, Ella decided it was time to intervene.

"Are you kidding? Like, _every _guy was hitting on you." Wasn't that a great topic to bring up while Fang was in the room? Someone give this girl an award on knowing exactly how to turn a casual conversation awkward.

"Not really," I contradicted her, doing damage control.

_"Yes, _really," she insisted, not taking the hint. "And that police officer who stopped you this morning? He was _hot. _Was he on your case back in Greenwich? 'Cause I'd get on his case, if you know what I mean." Five minutes with Iggy and she'd started making bad sex jokes. God help us.

"It's illegal. I'm a minor," I said trimly.

"Only for a few more months. Haven't you been saying how you shouldn't be living here because you can take care of yourself and all that? I don't know why you turned him down."

"Maybe Max realized that she likes someone else," Fang suggested helpfully, speaking for the first time that night. I growled under my breath.

"Or maybe it's because I'm just not ready for a relationship," I retorted.

"Maybe you would be ready for one if you let yourself." Everyone except Ella groaned uncomfortably.

"Maybe he should stop pressuring me."

"This isn't about Max and Dylan, is it...?" Ella guessed quietly.

"Maybe you should stop lying to yourself."

"Maybe he should trust me when I say that I don't like him."

"Maybe he would if you hadn't told him you loved him."

"Maybe he should wake up and smell the alcohol, because I was smashed that night."

"Maybe you shouldn't be so damn difficult!"

"Maybe _you _shouldn't be so damn cocky and realize that not everyone is in love with you!" I paused. "I mean, uh, he. Maybe _he _shouldn't be cocky."

"Oh _please, _Max, since when have you been so passive aggressive? Just admit that you kissed me because we belong together!"

"Okay, uh, newsflash: _you _kissed _me. _I just... let you," I spat furiously, forgetting that there were other people around.

"We should probably get going," Nudge suggested. We ignored her.

"Goddammit, Max!"

"God damn _you, _Fang!" I shot back cleverly.

I think it was safe to say we could _not _go back to being friends.


	33. Max the Scholar

**A/N: Hey everyone... So, here's the deal. To keep this story at a slightly manageable length, and so I have time to do other things (on and off of FF), I'm starting to look for a way to wrap it up. I have a few ideas, but I'd be open to yours if there's anything you NEED to see happen. So... Let me know! Thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it, even if I haven't been replying as much. :)**

It wasn't long before a fancy envelope arrived in the mail for me and my mom, sent straight from the feds. What could it be, but an invitation to Jeb's impending trial? So even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I had to prepare for my testimony because I was basically the only witness. Well, apparently they were trying to bring in some of his poker buddies with the insentive of getting _them _out of jail for illegal gambling. I know, I know, I should've been more involved or whatever. Every five minutes, Valencia was asking me if there was anything the lawyers should know, or if I wanted to come to a meeting with her, blah blah blah. You know what? The answer was always no. Because really, as long as I was out of there, I just didn't want to be involved. The whole situation made me sick.

That doesn't mean I didn't plan on attending the trial. I wanted Jeb locked up as much as anybody else. It was just... I kinda had a new life to worry about. Fang was being even more silent than usual, my family was screwed up on multiple levels, I had a new school to think of. A trial makes all of that kind of hard, you know? So I was torn, but... not torn. I mean, obviously I knew where I stood and what I had to do, I was just procrastinating.

As you can probably guess, the last thing I wanted to do was have something else added to my plate. And yet, my mom decided it would be a great time to bring up that lovely thing called college.

"Now, Max, I know it's kind of late to submit an application, but I'm sure they would understand, and..."

"Valencia," I interrupted. "The trial starts in a few weeks. I'm bound to miss tons of school. A lot of that will be the first chunk of senior year. What makes you think it will be a good idea?" She bit her lip.

"I know. I've been thinking about that, too, and I just thought that... Well, it will be awkward missing so much school, especially when you're new, and obviously you're right, the trial won't exactly be helpful, so... I decided we can hire a tutor. If you want to. I've found some that can work around our schedule, even during summer." She paused. "Well, of course you wouldn't want to work in summer, would you? Just to make up for some lost time, maybe? And then you could even finish your senior year early and... I'd be open to what you want to do after that."

"Seriously?" I confirmed, jaw hanging wide open. "You're being legit?" Valencia smiled.

"Yes. Of course. Really, Max, it's your future. Whatever you might think I do love you, and... I want you to move on from this. Whatever that means you need.

"Uh... Thanks," I blubbered, blinking from shock. "I, uh... I guess I'll have to think about that." Numbly, I walked myself up the two flights of stairs to my room, finally flopping on my bed.

The truth was, I'd never thought about my future. Jeb would be put in jail, and I would be free to do... what? I wasn't really super talented at anything. I could do anything well enough to get by and I was a fast learner, but there was nothing that jumped out when I thought about _me. _Mentally, I scanned through my mental list of jobs.

Doctor: I'd throw up more than the patients.

Lawyer: I _do _like to argue.

Writer: I don't think I could pull off the whole emo, live-in-a-coffee-shop thing.

Teacher: I might strangle the children.

Designer: ...Um, are you kidding?

And so on and so on and so on. But Valencia's idea did sound good. I wasn't sure how much school I'd be able to handle during the trial, especially when I knew absolutely no one. Ah, decisions, decisions...

In a fit of desperateness, I flew downstairs, where Valencia was still sitting, this time with Ella. Ignoring my sister, I turned straight to my mom.

"I'd have to take the SATs, right?" I blurted. "And soon, because colleges won't wait forever. I mean, it's almost testing time and I haven't even taken a practice course. Then the application dates will be coming in and are you really sure this is a good idea?" Valencia glanced at Ella, who consciously ignored the quiet suggestion that she leave.

"Max, it's a fact that college helps you later in life. I thought this would be what you wanted."

"Of course it is! College is... college, you have to go to college! But where and when and... does it even make sense?"

"We can make it make sense," she replied confidently. "There are some later SAT slots and, like I said, you could be home-schooled so you can catch up on work quicker. As for where you'd go, my idea was that we submit applications to all the possibilities, jump on some tours in the fall, and then make your decision based on those. How does that sound?"

Hearing it from her mouth like that made it all sound so quick and neat. But it wasn't. Tutors and college both cost serious money and I wasn't even sure where I would want to look. It wasn't like I was deciding what shoes to get - this would affect me forever. And ever. And ever.

Normally, I would discuss this with my trusted best friend Fang, but for some unclear reason, I didn't think we were quite ready for that yet. Life was difficult when a hot guy said he was in love with you. Perverse as I know that sounds. Guess you can't win 'em all, can you?

**A/N: What do you think Max should do about college? Let me know in the reviews!**


	34. Sister Sister

I agreed to my mom's plan.

I couldn't help it. It sounded clean cut the way she put in, and she was right. If I was home-schooled, I had all the control. Schedules, topics, dress code, you name it. And college was what normal people thought about when they were my age. And even if I wasn't normal, I had the right to maintain some semblance of a regular life.

It's not like this didn't take a lot of thinking. And when I say that, I mean _a lot _of thinking, both on my part and my friends'. Well, everyone except Fang. We still hadn't talked, which was fine by me. Honestly, the boy was so irritating that a break would be nice. Even if I missed him just a teensy, tiny, bit.

Surprisingly, Nudge had taken me the most seriously when I asked her about it.

"I could see you in college, Max. I mean, you're all smart and stuff. Besides, who wants to go to school?" She wrinkled her nose. "I mean, really, have you ever thought about how many germs are in that place? I watched this thing about it on TV a few days ago, and..."

"Nudge," I interrupted. With a pointed look, she got back on track.

"Anyways, I think you should do it. What's the worst that can happen, you know?" I bit my tongue to stop myself from listing the endless possibilities.

* * *

><p>My mom had one more thing for me to do, and that was to see a lawyer about Jeb. What else? I had to write about my testimony sooner or later, as much as I postponed it. And that meant rehashing everything, and I mean <em>everything, <em>from the first time he raped me to the day Fang found out. Somehow, my friends had wriggled out of being called to the stand, so I was in this alone. Completely alone.

It was awkward, to say the least, talking about this with my mom and I complete stranger. But I had to make myself do it. Lately, I'd been trying to remember that if Jeb wasn't put in jail soon, he'd only come back stronger than ever later. And even if he couldn't have me, he would find some girl to torture. That was, if he hadn't already. Being a scientist had its perks and Jeb was rolling in cash. Almost immediately, he'd posted bail.

My strength held out the entire meeting. I recited dates like clockwork, I signed my name on the dotted line. It was strange seeing my entire life condensed into an essay for the testimony, almost like it had never even happened. In a weird way, it comforted me. So, it was seventeen years. Well, it only took up a few pages.

It wasn't until I got home that the weight of my situation came crashing down on me. Even if it meant it would be over soon, telling a jury full of people about my life was like solidifying that it had happened. Now, when only a few people knew the details, I could imagine that it was just a nightmare. A really bad, awful, horrible nightmare. Besides, I could only imagine the publicity if Jeb was convicted. _World famous scientist Jeb Batchelder playing with more than just chem. sets! _

I needed to vent to someone. Someone I knew. Someone I cared about. Without thinking, my fingers flew over the keys of my phone until they'd completed Fang's number. His message machine picked up.

"Uh, hi," I mumbled. "It's me. Max. I always hate when people say 'it's me' because you do you know who 'me' is, right? God. I sound like Nudge. Anyways, uh... Just, um, call me, I guess. Bye." The second I hung up, I threw the phone across the room, watching it shatter against the wall. I stared at the pieces scattered on my floor, feeling only slightly guilty. Too bad I didn't have a Nokia. Those things never break, you know?

A timid knock alerted me to someone's presence.

"Come in," I called lazily, not bothering to open the door. Who could it be other than my mom?

To my surprise, Ella walked in instead, wringing her hands nervously.

"Max?" she squeaked.

"That's my name," I responded in a monotone. She smiled queasily.

"Uh, I wanted to say I'm sorry. For screwing things up with... with that about the police officer dude, and all." I looked up.

"It was gonna happen anyways," I shrugged. "You didn't know." Awkwardly, she perched on the bed.

"Thanks," she murmured. I nodded.

"I'm really glad you're my sister," she whispered, almost too quietly to hear. Despite myself, I smiled.

"Yeah, me too."


	35. Raccoon Eyes

**A/N: Oh dear God. I did it again. I went and posted the wrong chapter. *Facepalm* Sorry about that. Well, I deleted it and replaced it with this, the right chapter. And there's g****ood news! After this chapter, there is only an epilogue left! I think. I'll be listing this as complete after this because the story part of it is over. Thank-you so much to everyone who reviewed and helped me make this happen. I'm so glad people enjoyed my story. If you want to read more stuff of mine, I just started a account under 'apprenticeofathena'. Check it out if you want! Thanks again, guys!**

Before I knew it, the trial was here. My friends were anxiously waiting for me at the courthouse when I arrived. I tugged self-consciously at the black sweater Nudge had picked out for me. It was crochet, and, from the shoulder up, blue and green striped. I had to wear a black button down under it so it wouldn't be see-through. Awkwardly, I hugged everyone, searching for one face in particular.

"Where's Fang?" I asked, forcing my voice not to catch. Nudge and Iggy exchanged a look.

"He decided not to come," Iggy informed me cautiously.

"Oh," I replied, biting my lip. Why should he come? We hadn't talked in a while, even though I called him. He had a right to move on from me since I didn't like him. Because I didn't. Did I?

I fiddled with my hands as I was ushered to the stand, unsure where to put them. I could feel the entire room's eyes on me, most of all Jeb's. I made a point of keeping my gaze on the jury after I confirmed my father's identity and blah, blah, blah. My testimony rolled off my tongue, as well as the answers to the prosecutor's questions. I noticed some of friends wincing as I recited the more graphic parts of the story, along with some sympathetic oohs and ahhs. But all I could really think about was was the one who found out first. Shouldn't he be here? Didn't he want to stay friends? I tapped my foot against the wooden stand nervously.

It wasn't until the sentencing that I noticed Jeb's eye. A huge, purple ring surrounded his left eye, making him look more like a raccoon than Taylor Momsen. Apparently he managed to piss some people off without me.

Unsurprisingly, Jeb was sentenced to thirty years for rape of a minor, five for child endangerment and another five for unlawful possession of a dangerous weapon. Although I'd promised myself not to do anything stupid, I couldn't help but squeal as I realized that it was totally, completely over. For ever and ever. On the arms of my friends, I paraded outside, tears of joy leaking down my cheeks. Gazzy skipped ahead of us, screaming 'We Are the Champions' and generally frightening the locals. The only thing that could put a damper on my mood? Fang.

And not just the fact that he wasn't there. The thought of Fang in general was too confusing and complicated to consider. The sight of Fang was plain painful. But that's exactly what I saw. Leaning against the courthouse stood Fang, dressed as fancily as I'd ever seen him, tie and all, for the trial.

"Fang," I demanded aloud, taking a few steps closer. He jumped.

"Uh, Max. Hi. Um, congrats. I'm happy for you." I crossed my arms.

"That's a lot of words for someone who's been silent for the past few weeks," I half-joked. He shrugged.

"Yeah, sorry... about that." Awkwardly, he ran his hand through his hair, revealing bloody knuckles. My brow furrowed.

"What happened to your hand?" He stuffed it in his pocket.

"Well, um, I got in a fight." I gave him a deadpan look.

"No shiz, Sherlock. With who?" He studied the ground, which was all it took for me to connect the dots. "Wait, you did _not," _I gasped.

"I didn't _mean _to," he defended himself. "But we all went out to dinner last night, and... He was there. Which, I mean, think about that for a second. Absorb the fact that the day before his rape trial he was out- out fucking _celebrating-" _

"Fang," I warned. He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I punched the bastard. So what? He deserved it." Despite myself, my shoulders shook with laughter. Attempting (and failing) to quell it, I clamped a hand over my mouth. I felt myself swinging as I cackled, not at the fact the Fang punched Jeb, but just that my life was mine. _Finally. _As I tipped forward, Fang grabbed my arm. "You okay, Max?" I could hear the worry in his voice.

"Oh, God, I just- I just _love _you, Fang!" I spewed without realizing what I had said. For perhaps the first time ever, I saw Fang's entire face completely ignite. Seriously. I'm pretty sure that smile gave light to the moon or something. "Close your mouth!" I roared. "What are you trying to do, blind me or something?"

"You saying you want me to go back to being silent again?" He zipped his lips closed. I laughed harder.

"God, no, you know what?"

"Wha-"

Before he could even finish the word, I kissed him.

**A/N: That might have been a little abrupt, but it felt DAMN GOOD to get out. One last review? (Hopefully a positive one?)**


	36. Epilogue: My 18th Year

**A/N: Hello again, dear readers. I am proud to present the epilogue to My 17th Year of Torture, Drama and Misery! Hopefully, you enjoy it. I'm also here to announce that, at least for now, I am officially retiring from in order to write more stories about some of my own characters. Again, I would REALLY love it if you'd check out my Wattpad account, apprenticeofathena. I recently posted a story named Politically Incorrect that I think fans of this story will like. The main character, Stella Harvey, kind of reminds me of Max. It's a mystery, by the way. Here's a summary of it:**

_Stella Harvey is America's sweetheart. Or, at least, that's what she's been told. In a tragic accident, Stella lost the past five years of her memory, meaning that she doesn't remember her father's new wife, doesn't recognize her new makeover, and certainly doesn't have the slightest clue that her father is the President of the United States. In an effort to remember, Stella begins to search for clues about the five years she's missing. Clues that lead her to shocking revelations about her past and even more questions. When did Stella become popular? What happened to her life in New York? And, most importantly, was the accident really an accident?_

**And there you have it. I'm gonna post a link to my Wattpad account on my profile if any of you want to check it out. Thank you so much for being so supportive of everything I do guys! Obviously I've never met you but I'm definitely gonna miss you! Mwa, mwa!**

****2100. 2100. 2100. 2100.

I got a 2100 on the SATs. A score which, I am proud to say, is higher than Fang's score by 300 points. Seriously, can you believe that? 2100! That's like, waaaay above average. In fact, I'm willing to bet that I'll need to be hanging ivy on the walls soon. (Get it? Because I could get into an Ivy League school? Haha. Aren't I hilarious?) Now all that's left to do is actually visit the schools I'm considering. Off the top of my head, I'd kind of like to go to Columbia for journalism. Because even if I don't plan to attend poetry readings at vegan cafes, I do like to write. And who knows? Maybe I could make reading the newspapers actually _interesting. _

Until college, though, I'm still living with my mom. You know, sticking to our plan about being home-schooled and all. I'm currently writing an essay about the trial for my college applications. (I know, right? My entire life has become about college. It's painful, trust me.)

Ella, Ari and I have all become closer, too. Even though I don't go to school with them anymore, sometimes I walk them down there in the mornings. Turns out, if you spend some time with them, they're not that bad. Ella's actually become one of my closest friends. Kind of. It's kind of been revoked since she told me she likes Iggy. Because I am _not _letting my little sister date that man-whore. No way in hell.

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for: Fang and I are going out. Whoo. Cue thunderous applause and confetti. We're not super lovey-dovey, though. We're serious about each other, which is good, but it's not like I make out with him every time I see him. Only sometimes. (See? You know I'm funny.) Really, we don't want it to screw up our entire group's friendship. Which is why, today, on my eighteenth birthday, we all went out together. Me, Fang, Nudge, Ella, Iggy, Angel, Gazzy, Mom, Ari. We went for fondue in the East Village. And _damn, _was it good.

Of course, my super annoying friends couldn't resist humiliating me just a little bit, so Gazzy farted Happy Birthday to me as the staff brought out a gigantic, chocolate fondue fountain and a pile of marshmallows, fruits, cheeses and breads with a sparkler stabbed on top as a candle. So we got some dirty looks for stinking up the place. I was the birthday girl; I got what I wanted.

"Make a wish, Max," Nudge clapped. "Before I blow it out for you!" I rolled my eyes at her and leaned into the candle. I breathed in exaggeratedly, building the anticipation, until I finally extinguished the flame once and for all. What did I wish? If I told anyone, it wouldn't be you, dumbo. That's the point.

So, finally, my life as an adult is beginning. It's what I've been waiting for all year, and now, at long last, it's here: My 18th year of college, craziness, and happiness.

(If you didn't realize, the story is over now. So, uh. Bye.)

**A/N: Review again please! I'll miss you! Remember to check out my Wattpad!**


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